


Sexta

by Steangine



Category: Bleach
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Comedy, Grimmjow runs a pub, M/M, there'll be a quite delicate theme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-05-07 22:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 77,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14681139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steangine/pseuds/Steangine
Summary: Ichigo needs a part-time job. Grimmjow owns a pub and needs someone for the weekend. Ichigo doesn't like Grimmjow. The feeling is mutual.Or, how Ichigo ends up working in a place filled with bizarre people and he mingles in it perfectly.[AU - Age difference - Relationship evolution - Some heavy parts in the future chapters]





	1. Work and study make students rich of stress

The sky of that day of April was so blue it almost seemed summer. But a cold blow of wind remembered to Ichigo spring had barely started. The wind reached the back of his neck and the shiver glided from his head through the spine of his back. He wrapped himself in the jacket as he stopped in front of a promising door. More than the door, he was interested into the paper hung to it. That piece of paper was what brought Ichigo down to that neighborhood he had never ventured into of his own will.

Ichigo was too young to enter half of the locals of that commercial street and didn’t find anything good for him on the other half. Yet, he was there because he needed it.

The wooden dark door, the dark walls, the sign swinging lightly at the wind’s whim and the blue pattern of irregular pieces of glass put together by a lead seal that formed the windows: everything from the outside gave to that place a sinister appearance. Ichigo read right under the white gothic six carved into the black sign.

“Seku…suta?” He frowned. “Sekkusuta? What kind of na–”

The door slammed and Ichigo jolted back.

“It’s Sexta.”

The voice arrived before its owner, who stormed outside wearing a black crew neck and with a box lifted on his right shoulder. His glare pierced right through Ichigo, who couldn’t even question if the man could have been dangerous or not: he was dangerous – and had his clear blue hair combed back like a thug. His presence was an explosion that made Ichigo step back, as if an invisible strength around the man pushed him away.

“Japanese can’t even pronounce such a simple word.” He snarled in a fluent Japanese. “Get lost, brat! I’m busy!”

Ichigo frowned, all the bravery flowing back to his body. “I’m not a brat! I’m here for the–“

“–job. Yeah.” A quick sharp look, Ichigo felt almost naked. “You’re not suited for it.” The man put the box against the wall of the pub, next to the door. “And I’m not a babysitter.”

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

The man scanned him from head to toe with a quick look.

“How old are you?”

Ichigo was a second too late to reply. “Uhm… twenty.”

“For real.”

He talked over him, barely giving him time to finish talking. Ichigo thought about lying again, but then he realized he was late once again and it wouldn’t have sounded good.

“…I’ll turn eighteen this summer.”

The man snickered.

“Just give me a chance!”

But as he was talking back, the man entered the pub. The door was closing slowly over the darkness where the man disappeared. Ichigo acted before his common sense could be put in motion: he leaped forward, blocking the door with his right foot and followed the steps of the man.

“Get out!”

He didn’t even turn around but already knew Ichigo was inside.

“You’re allowed to talk to me like that only if you give me a chance and I’ll actually mess around!”

“Allowed? And who would allow me, you?” The man snickered. “Get lost, you’re already messing around.”

With a quick glance, Ichigo realized everything was made of wood, from the tables to the counter where bottles and beer dispensers were lined up. The only turned on lights were some small circles over the counter and when the door closed again on itself, everything else was left into the darkness; the light filtering through the colored windows wasn’t strong enough to go over the small area at the feet of the glass.

For a second, Ichigo regretted he had left the cozy outside to seal himself into that place with a man who looked more than capable of trying to break his bones because he considered him a pain in the ass. And probably, despite Ichigo was used to fights, he would have managed to leave more damages than necessary. But blood rushed to Ichigo’s head faster than the little common sense he had that didn’t want to awaken.

“It would be impossible doing worse than you, old geezer.”

Ichigo was almost sure the man would have never hired him, and he still had many places to check. He was satisfied with his throwback, so he turned around to reach the exit. But he only managed to see a slice of the outside behind the door, before a large hand slammed on the surface, closing it back. The man towered him and Ichigo felt like an invisible weight was pressing him down. But he didn’t let his overwhelming presence take him over; he crossed his arms and wrinkled his eyebrows.

“What the hell, old man?”

Ichigo was sure the man was about to hit him, and he prepared to block the blow. But what landed on him wasn’t a punch, it was a soft swishing touch that enveloped his head. Ichigo took off the apron from his face. The man was smirking…

“Welcome to your apprenticeship, brat.”

…and Ichigo hated that smirk from the bottom of his heart. But he gulped down what he truly wanted to say. Instead, between his teeth, he grumbled a low question.

“When do I start?”

“Right now.”

“…eh?”

“You turned deaf all of a sudden?” The man walked away, bringing with him the heavy atmosphere floating around him, and Ichigo felt like someone had just lifted an invisible weight from his shoulders. “Di Roy!”

A young man with white hair and an eye patch on his right eye walked in from a back door.

“What? I was tidying the storage room.”

“Be happy, we have a new low man on the totem pole. You can order him around.”

Di Roy smiled and Ichigo caught sight of a glimmer on his teeth, braces.

“But–“ As Grimmjow went on, Di Roy’s smile faded. “–if I catch you loitering, you’re done for. Both.”

He disappeared over a door at the other end of that room, his steps climbing the stairs vanished into a heavy silence. Ichigo looked at his _senpai_ , who was shorter than him and didn’t even look older. His hair was messy and what probably tried to be an evil smirk, ended up only being a silver smirk. Ichigo bowed his head a little.

“Please, take care of me.” His frown didn’t match his words.

“Don’t worry, I will.” Di Roy snickered. “I hope you like dust, rookie.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez had a business to run. His business was a pub in one of the most competitive zones in Karakura and, after months of rethinking, he decided to follow the advice of his best friend and right-hand man and looked for another person to hire. But between words and deeds there’s always a huge gap and the number of people Grimmjow made run away overcame the one digit in less than two months. The sturdier lasted three days. The number fourteen had left six days prior the orange kid arrived at the pub just to piss him off.

“Give him a chance.”

“I’ve done it.”

Shawlong Koufang was his best friend and most of the time acted more like a second father to Grimmjow than like a companion. He was tall and long; his limbs, fingers and face were long, but they fit to his stoic appearance. His body gave the impression he could fall under a simple blow, but Grimmjow witnessed that it was better not to piss Shawlong off more than necessary. Even if his patience was so high that he didn’t remember he’d ever seen him lose his temper.

“Really?”

“Really. Shawlong, don’t piss me off with this anymore. I took care of it.”

They were opposites: Grimmjow mostly fierce and impulsive, Shawlong always calm and reflective. But, somehow, they agreed on more things that one would have expected. Unfortunately for Grimmjow’s patience, the new kid wasn’t among those things.

“Giving a hard time to newcomers when they haven’t even stepped inside the pub isn’t a good thing.” Shawlong took a sip of tea. “Even if this time the rookie looks too young.”

“Told ya!”

Yet Shawlong didn’t give Grimmjow any time to rejoice.

“But he may have more guts than the previous fourteen. He gives this impression.”

“It’s because he pretends he has guts that I won’t be easy on him.”

Shawlong put the cup on the small plate, the sound was a delicate one. Grimmjow was sure the thin line of his lips was a smirk.

“What if he’ll have enough guts?”

That was the tiny spot dirtying his flawless plan of getting rid of the boy. What if he actually had the guts? What if he shouldn’t have left himself carried away and defy that arrogant brat? But Grimmjow was good at suffocating the little voice, that was really similar to Shawlong’s, which was the common sense he didn’t listen to enough – something he had in common with Ichigo but didn’t know it yet.

“Talking won’t bring us anywhere. Let’s see what happens.” Grimmjow cut off the conversation. “I still have something to do before we open tonight. I leave everything in your care.”

“As always.”

Grimmjow ignored the last remark. He put on the jacket as he went down the stairs. The silent and warm pub welcomed him and the conversation with Shawlong became a memory he would have stored right before stepping out. However, a sinister rustle coming from nearby the storage room froze him on the spot. He recalled who was there and was fast to picture all the worst-case scenario his imagination and experience could mix together.

He slammed the door open with a kick and what he saw poured into his throat a melting of laughs and swears that clashed against each other and neither managed to come out from his mouth. But his glare was enough to make Di Roy and -to his fiery joy- the brat pray to drown into the colored sea of labels they spilt on the floor to escape from him.

Grimmjow’s lips twitched and Di Roy brushed his feet on the floor to get away as further as he could among the boxes.

“I swear Grimmjow, it was his–“

“Shaddup!” Di Roy squeaked as Grimmjow’s voice vibrated like a whip. “Di Roy, Yylfordt is late today. Go fucking prepare the counter. If something happens, I’ll make sure you’ll have another eye-patch before you can come up with some freaking whiny excuse!”

Di Roy dashed behind Grimmjow before he could add some salt to his condition. And Ichigo was left alone with Grimmjow. Now there was no one to share the pressure of his rage with and he felt the need to bend his knees under that weight. But he resisted and glared back at the man.

“It’s not my fault.”

“Who the fuck cares. What’s done is done.” Grimmjow pointed at the labels scattered on the floor. “I’ll be back in a while. If there’s even a single label on the floor, you’ll be fired.”

“I’m not even employed yet!”

Grimmjow grinned, showing his white teeth. “Then I’m sure you don’t want to set a record.” He closed the door behind him, but clearly heard the brat’s enraged voice. And the rustle. He probably threw some labels at the door.

“And how is long this damn _while_?”

Grimmjow laughed.

The shy sun of spring turned a bit sweeter for him in that early afternoon of March. His mood had a sudden improvement since when he met the kid. And surely that brat had already set a record: it had been since Ulquiorra that Grimmjow hadn’t felt such a great repulsion towards a person at first sight. He saw the brat and immediately recognized on his face the expression of someone who was there just because of that piece of paper stuck on the door of the pub. He would have marked the brat as uninteresting like the previous fourteen, if it wasn’t for all the rest that pissed Grimmjow off: he heard him trying to read the name of his pub with his shitty pronunciation and Grimmjow was just bothered, then he looked into his eyes and Grimmjow felt the urge of slapping him on the head.

_ He won’t stay. _ Grimmjow said to himself as he was returning from his errands and the perspective of meeting with the kid became more tangible. _He won’t resist._

He was sure of it.

But, when he entered the pub and saw the kid drinking a glass of water, a little tiny bit inside him snapped. He didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t anything good.

Shawlong was sitting near the boy on a long stool, looking like a severe skinny father.

“I sure don’t remember I said you could take a break.”

Grimmjow abandoned the jacket on one table. The kid had the guts of frowning at him.

“I cleaned the whole room. Check it, if you don’t believe me.”

Grimmjow didn’t need to check. If Shawlong was allowing him to perch on that stool, it was because he fulfilled the task. Neither there was need for Shawlong to give him a piercing look, that resembled a lot his mother’s whenever she scolded him, to realize he had to finally give a real chance to the kid.

“…alright.” He licked his lips. “I don’t want you around during the opening hours. You’ll work in the back.”

Some of the previous fourteen retorted at that point, the kid just listened and that was one small point in his favor. Small. Grimmjow went on.

“You’ll know what you need to do when you get here. And there’s always something to do. You’re still a student.” That was an affirmation. “About matching your school timetable and your pay–“

“Shawlong has already told me.” Ichigo cut him off. “He said I could go for today.”

Grimmjow was both relieved and annoyed. Relieved, because he had one less pain to deal with, but annoyed because Shawlong acted on his own accord. Well, mostly annoyed because the brat looked at him as if he really thought he could even stand his same ground, defying him with his grumpy glare. So, he was more than glad when he left.

As Ichigo closed the door behind him, Grimmjow sat in front of Shawlong.

“You’ve just hired a high schooler.”

“You have.” Shawlong corrected him. “And it’s just a trial. For now.” He cared to add.

The silence was too long, that meant Grimmjow was thinking. Usually, it was a good thing. Grimmjow wasn’t a carbon copy of the thug, strong but idiot. He was strong, clever and stubborn. Shawlong couldn’t read his thoughts, but he was almost sure to know what was going on as the gears of Grimmjow’s mind were working.

“Grimmjow.” He caught his attention. “We really do need help during weekends. With this one try being a little less…”

“Harsh?”

“Bastard.”

“If he can’t stand that much–“

“Hardly anyone could stand that much.” Shawlong looked at his friend. “Fifteen thousand yen he’ll survive the month.”

Grimmjow cackled at his face. “I’ll be surprised if he resists one week! I’m in.”

Three days later, Ichigo began his part-time job.

He didn’t tell anything to his family and was glad he could count on the support of his friends, Renji and Rukia, in case he needed a cover. When he reported he lied about his age, Renji smashed a slap against his back, while Rukia was surprised he could put an act. He didn’t admit that part didn’t go well, but he obtained the job anyway. Renji and Rukia were both two years older than him and Ichigo had only the last year of high school separating him from college. Starting a job during the critical year was a challenge he accepted because he was confident he could do it.

But when he entered the pub and his new boss looked at him like a nasty child looks at a new toy to play with, Ichigo questioned all the decisions which lead him there.

“Good afternoo–“

The man threw a white ball of cloth at him. The ball opened midair and Ichigo caught it before it landed on his head. It was a white t-shirt.

“Bring the boxes from the back to the front. Go to Shawlong when you’re done. Quick.”

Few orders and his new boss wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. Ichigo took off the jacket, hesitated a bit and then put it on the nearest table. He wore the white t-shirt over the one he already had.

“My name is Kurosaki Ichigo.”

Back at home, after their first disastrous meeting, he realized he hadn’t introduced himself properly yet.

“Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Boss, for you.”

Grimmjow entered the kitchen and left Ichigo alone.

He entered the room of the other time. There were new boxes and he didn’t see those Di Roy made fall, forcing him to clean his mess. He read some labels, each contained glasses or tableware for the front. Most of them had to be handled with care. However, that didn’t scare him.

Ichigo didn’t know how much time he spent doing to and fro with one box at time, using all the tact he inherited from his mother. He was careful not to put the fragile boxes under the heavier ones, so he had to play tetris and then pile them when every single box was on the front. When he was done he didn’t know about the time, but he was sweating and was eager for water.

Shawlong appeared as soon as he put adjusted the last box. Ichigo dried the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Oh…” Shawlong tilted his head. “Why did you bring these boxes here?”

Ichigo frowned. “Grimmjow told me to.”

From the door he disappeared before, Grimmjow walked out with a glass filled with water in his hand. Even in the dim light of the pub, Ichigo saw the drops on the glass catching the few rays of sunshine and winking at his thirst.

“Good job kid.” He said with a blank voice. “Now bring them back.”

“What?!” Ichigo blurted out without control. “I did a useless job!”

“Clean the storage room before bringing them back.”

“I did it the other day!”

“Do you think dust stops floating around because of your stunning presence?”

Ichigo was angry. Grimmjow was amused. But while Grimmjow was hiding his feelings behind a composed mask of adult calm, cracked by his evil grin, Ichigo had his fingers clenched in trembling fists and his teeth grinding in the attempt of blocking some words that could have had him fired.

Shawlong was almost sure Ichigo was about to insult Grimmjow. But he finished that short conversation with an annoyed snort.

“Where are the rags?”

“Didn’t you forget something?”

Grimmjow was having fun, Shawlong could tell it from the glimmer into his eyes.

“Where are the rags, boss?” Ichigo munched the last word.

Grimmjow chuckled. “Shawlong, show him.”

Ichigo marched after Shawlong. Only for some hours a day, he thought. Only three days per week, he added. And the world seemed a bit better. Maybe because Grimmjow wasn’t around anymore.

His first day ended with Ichigo hating boxes more than he imagined.

Two days after, his second day.

It was a Sunday late morning and while many of his friends enjoyed a walk in the park together, Ichigo declined the offer mumbling an excuse nobody understood and run to the pub. The previous night probably there were many clients, as Saturday night was the only night off for many people. However, if that was the case, no sign of it remained, because the pub was the same Ichigo remembered, as if they had no clients. Ichigo paid attention for the first time to the bottles behind the counter, but he couldn’t tell if the alcohol of each was the same.

Another strange thing: since he was told to go before midday, he believed they were open for lunch too, but there was no one in sight.

As he put on the white t-shirt, Shawlong -Ichigo sighed of relief into his mind- came to instruct him.

“We’ll inspect the tables, chairs and benches.”

“Inspect?”

Shawlong turned all the lights on and suddenly Ichigo missed the comfortable semi-darkness.

“A check. Everything has to be in order.”

“Everything like…?”

“If there’s any sign of deterioration, dirt of something, tell me.”

“Okay… you aren’t open at midday, are you?”

“Usually not.”

Usually. For now, that was enough.

Ichigo wasn’t sure about what he had to check, but he tried to fulfill his task anyway. The tables, chairs and bench of thick wood seemed all the same, lucid and clean. Ichigo looked under them too, but there was nothing that made his bell ring. From time to time he turned to Shawlong, who was sitting at the counter, drinking a cup of tea and checking something on a little notebook, but he didn’t give him a single glance.

“Everything seems okay.”

“Oh, perfect.”

Shawlong ripped a paper from the notebook. He traced some circles, squares and rectangles. Ichigo associated them to the tables, chairs and benches.

“Change the disposition of the tables. Follow this scheme.”

Ichigo felt the soil disappearing from behind his feet.

“Excuse me what?”

“Didn’t you hear me?”

“I heard you. Move the tables.”

“Exactly.”

“On my own.”

“You’re sharp.”

Ichigo lost it. “You’re kidding me! One of these weighs more than me!”

“Don’t underestimate yourself. Unlike Grimmjow , I think you can do it.”

If it was the boy’s sense of duty or the fact that Grimmjow indirectly defied him, Shawlong couldn’t tell, even if he thought it was mostly the second reason. But Ichigo didn’t add anything else and grabbed the piece of paper.

After an hour, and a show of great physical abilities, Ichigo leaned down on a bench and didn’t move anymore, soaked in his own sweat. Shawlong brought him a glass of water and observed his job.

“Not bad…”

“Oh, yeah?” Ichigo asked before gulping down the entire glass in few sips. “If you hadn’t liked it, you would have moved the tables.” He panted. “…hey, but did you work yesterday evening?”

“All night long.”

Ichigo had no reasons to doubt him, except the fact that Shawlong didn’t show any sign of tiredness: no bags under the yes, no red eyes, no yawns or such. He was composed, his clothes were flawless, and he seemed a teacher who, after a refreshing sleep, was ready to lecture his students.

“Got it… may I have another glass of water?”

He finished talking and someone opened the main door.

Grimmjow entered like a normal human being. Unlike Shawlong, he had on him all the signs of a night spent running after the clients: his hair, usually pulled back, were all down on his face, he made a huge yawn as he scratched his neck and his eyes were teary of lack of sleep. But when he recognized Ichigo, his expression suddenly turned sharper and when he realized what happened to the tables of the pub his eyes narrowed.

“What the fuck?”

His voice wasn’t particularly severe, maybe due to his current lack of energy, but Ichigo stood up as if a needle appeared on the bench.

“I had the boy change the disposition of the tables.”

“I see that, Shawlong. But why?”

“Because yesterday you said he is a skinny brat. Some extra exercise for him.”

Ichigo turned his head to Shawlong so fast, his neck hurt. “What?!”

“For fuck’s sake!” Grimmjow didn’t manage to add anything else. “Brat. Put them back in place.” He swung his right hand and then the arm fell lifeless down along his hip.

Grimmjow looked like someone who had enough of everything. But he wasn’t the only one. Ichigo didn’t move of an inch.

“I won’t do it.”

Grimmjow , who was heading towards the stairs near the counter, turned around in a slow motion.

“What?”

“I won’t do it.” Ichigo repeated. “I came here to work, not to play your stupid games.”

“That’s work. Put the damn tables back.”

“Then he–“ He pointed at Shawlong. “–puts your damn tables back!”

“Who do you think you are to order me around?”

Grimmjow was tired, but Ichigo felt he could drag him down even in that state. However, he was confident enough to reply. Because it was only the second day, but he wasn’t stupid, and he knew when he was mocked.

“If you want a slave, just go and hire one! Because I’m not yours. I was looking for a job, not for a joke!”

Ichigo took off his t-shirt and threw it at Grimmjow. Grimmjow grabbed it and threw it back so fast that Ichigo was taken aback. Then, before he could see anything else besides the t-shirt, a sharp pain exploded into his head: Grimmjow had just smacked his forehead against his. Ichigo wobbled back as myriad of white lights danced in front of his eyes. But behind those lights he saw a blue stain which became a blurred shape. Which was enough. Ichigo dashed forward and gave the hit back.

He wasn’t really sure, but he probably hit Grimmjow’s chin and not his forehead. The first hit damaged him more than he expected and the second one disoriented him at the point Ichigo moved his arms around looking for somewhere to lean on. He clearly heard Grimmjow’s laugh echoing into his temples itching at each pulsation he felt.

“What a shitty brat.”

Ichigo looked up, he saw one of Grimmjow’s hand falling down on him and raised both arms to defend himself. But what he received wasn’t a hit. Grimmjow stroked his knuckles on his head and the pain sharpened, shooing away the state of slumber he was falling in. Ichigo saw a small trace of blood near Grimmjow’s mouth. He was grinning.

“I can’t stand you.” Grimmjow declared, but he was smiling.

“Same… here.” Ichigo spat back with a glare. Was he really looking at him or at one of his blurry afterimages?

“But you have some balls. Training is over, you’re hired.”

“Training?”

Grimmjow ignored him. “Shawlong, give this brat a black t-shirt. Di Roy will teach the brat what he has to do tonight.”

“Tonight?”

Ichigo wasn’t sure he heard correctly. But the afterimages had disappeared.

“Yes. Tonight. Not all night long, you’re a brat with school duties after all.”

“Hey! I’m not a–“

“You’ll be a waiter. If you have any questions, ask Shawlong. I’m going to bed.”

Grimmjow didn’t run, but he was fast at disappearing up to the stairs. Ichigo turned to Shawlong, who gave him a quick look.

“I’m tired too. You should go home and rest, boy.” Even if Shawlong looked everything but tired. “I have to close the door.” He added in a not-so-subtle invitation to leave the place.

Ichigo was shirtless and started feeling the cool spring weather tickling his skin. He wore back his t-shirt and the jacket. His head was a furious beat from the inside and it seemed like the brain was hitting the walls to escape from the skull. He closed the eyes, finding a bit of relief. Among all those mixed sensations -he was still confused and angry- he didn’t fully realize he had just found a part-time job. Or better, he was given a part-time job right when he wanted to quit it.

He really realized it only when he walked down the road until he found a bench to sit on. His head still hurt. Nobody had ever made him feel such a long-lasting pain and he had quite a long record of quarrels, many with people older than him.

_ Damn Grimmjow. Who the hell headbutts their employees? _

Employee… To what extent was good working in that kind of place? And was he really going to work there after he was treated more like a pastime than an employee? Ichigo made a mental review of his previous attempts, which all ended with nothing.

“Whatever…”

He would have given it another try. But only one.


	2. Maid dresses are not cosplay but aesthetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day of work for Ichigo.

That day didn’t start well, and all the odds were pointing towards an even worse ending.

Ichigo woke up without knowing if he actually wanted to work in that pub and, when he came back home to rest before his first actual day of work -since that morning turned out to be a simple rehearsal-, his doubts intensified. What led him to that street was a sort of desperation because he couldn’t find anything else: or there was no need for help, or the employee were the parents of the countless guys he beat down during the last few years – he wasn’t violent, he was just short-tempered and constantly bullied because of his hair. It was beat or be beaten and he preferred the former.

While lying on his bed, his body relaxed, but his mind worked non-stop.

What kind of clients went to that pub? Old men? Young scoundrels? Punks? Drug dealers? It looked like a somber place where not-very-legal-things happened and, as that thought struck Ichigo’s mind, he suddenly regretted his choice.

If something really bad were to happen or he just suspected there was something illegal going on, he declared to himself, he would have cut all the ties with that place. He could have told his uncle, a detective, but Ichigo didn’t want to make a mess out of that situation without knowing anything yet. Never judge by the appearances, which was what people always did with him, considering him a dangerous boy ready for fights. He was ready for fights, actually, but had never started one (without a good reason). He just had to maintain a low profile to keep himself out of the danger. But, wasn’t that what he had always tried, and troubles reached him anyway?

Ichigo didn’t want to think anymore. He took a manga from the shelf and fell asleep right after he read half of it. It was his sister, Yuzu, who woke him up.

“Ichigo.” Her gentle voice didn’t startle him, but he sat down, and the manga fell on the floor. “Ichigo.” She repeated. “It’s four already.”

“Uh… thanks.”

Ichigo leaned back on the bed. Yuzu sighed.

“Ichi-nii! You’ll fall asleep again and be late! It’s not nice being late when the others invite you at home!”

For the time being, Ichigo decided to keep his new part-time job a secret from his family. He wanted to settle things before announcing he had a part-time job, so that his father wouldn’t have made a fuss about it. But he wondered if he could accept him working in such a place during the week-ends.

“I’ll think about it later.”

“Think about what?”

“Nothing particular.”

Yuzu didn’t insist. His brother took the habit of not telling them anything and, despite her efforts, she had never managed to rip anything out of his mouth. However, that didn’t stop her from being worried about him. Karin, her twin, called it her _lovely brother complex_ , making Yuzu blush and run away every time.

Ichigo was grateful to Chad, the only one among his friends who knew about his new job, who accepted to cover him and shelter him at his house when he needed it. Despite Ichigo knew Chad was pleased he could help him, he still felt like he was taking advantage of him.

But only for a while. A couple of days and Ichigo would have told everything to his family. Maybe.

“I’m leaving!”

A rucksack with his books and school uniform and he was ready.

“See you tomorrow, Yuzu, Karin.” Ichigo waved his hand distractedly.

“Ah, wait, Ichigo! Have you told dad you’re staying at–” Karin tried to stop him, but he had already closed the door. “Geez, whatever…”

Ichigo arrived at the pub five minutes earlier. The guy he helped with the cleanings his very first day there, was wiping the street in front of the local. What was his name again? Something which sounded foreign, Ichigo didn’t remember.

The guy noticed him and gave him a creepy silver smile. Under the light of the sun, his braces glimmered. He still had the patch on his right eye.

“If that isn’t the Rookie. How professional, being on time on your first day.”

“That’s only natural.”

Ichigo wasn’t sure he liked the cocky attitude of that boy. It seemed like he looked at him as if he was some weakling with no importance. Despite he seemed younger, he was still his senior at work and Ichigo knew he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Since you’re here…” Di Roy walked to him and gave handed him the broom. “…finish the job, then come inside and I’ll tell you what to do.”

He didn’t even step in and had already something to do. A nice start.

Ichigo wiped the whole street in front of the pub, even if the street kept being dusty and he didn’t really know if he did a good job or not. When he decided it was enough, he entered, already sweating. His colleague was sitting on a chair. His smile looked like that of a brat who had just played a prank on someone and was witnessing the results of his job.

“Oh, you’re fast.” He stood up. “Follow me. Leave the bag into the changing room. You have your t-shirt with you, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

The change from the darkness to the white light of the changing room hurt his eyes. Ichigo took his t-shirt out of the bag and quickly put it on. It was black with _Sexta_ written in white on the back, and a little white six, matching the one on the label of the pub, printed on the left side of the chest.

When he was done, the guy approached him.

“I’m Di Roy Rinker. Your senior.” He cared to point it out.

“Ichigo Kurosaki.”

They looked at each other. Ichigo wasn’t sure he liked him.

“I’ll go turn on the lights. Wait here.”

Ichigo was left alone into the darkness. Then the yellow lights on the ceiling timidly sprouted inside the glass lanterns, giving touches of glimmers that changed the vibes of that place: the pub looked less intimidating and more comfortable. The shades of brown were warmer under that light, it was a soft touch that pulled out from the furniture and walls a familiar atmosphere. Ichigo almost believed the wooden chairs looked more comfortable and the blue glasses weren’t disturbing anymore.

“It seems another place, huh?”

It seemed like Di Roy read his mind. He lost a bit of his mockful tone, as if he was getting into work, where there was no much space left to tease the rookie. But then he grinned again.

“Don’t relax too much, we didn’t even begin.”

“Well, you didn’t begin for sure.”

“Holding a grudge for making you wipe the road?”

“As if.”

Both were calm, almost uninterested in talking to each other. Ichigo sighed.

“What do I have to do?”

“First of all.” Di Roy threw a black small apron at him – was it a habit of that place throwing things at people? “Wear this.”

Ichigo obeyed. The small piece of cloth surrounded his waist, the string dangled behind. On that too, there was a white six on the pocket on the front.

“These...” Di Roy handed him a small block notes with a pen. “…are your weapon. You sign the orders and the number of the table, go to the counter and hand them to Yylfordt.” Ichigo was sure Di Roy made a quick disgusted grimace as he uttered that name. “Or whoever is there.”

“Who?”

“You’ll meet him tonight. Then you just have to wait for the drinks. If the clients take some food too, be prepared for it to be ready. Meanwhile, do not forget to keep an eye on the clients and take new orders.”

“Got it.”

“It’s easier explaining it than doing it.”

Di Roy’s smile widened. Ichigo wasn’t impressed.

“I’ll do it.”

“The client is always right.”

“Got it.”

“If you don’t understand something, come to me.”

“Got it.”

“If a client bothers you, don’t come to me, go to Grimmjow.”

“Uh, why?”

Di Roy seemed amused.

“If you do anything wrong, Grimmjow will kick you out.”

“Hey, you didn’t reply.”

There was no need for him to tell. Ichigo didn’t know Grimmjow, but he saw enough of the man to realize that he had no room for major mistakes. Maybe even for minor ones.

“You look like a fast learner. But you’ll learn faster the numbers and position of tables while cleaning them.”

Ichigo bet he would have been the only one cleaning the tables.

And he was right. Di Roy disappeared somewhere, and he was left alone with a piece of cloth and a product to clean the tables which, in his eyes, were already clean. But he couldn’t oppose to any of the people working there, also because there was no one left. He had already cleaned half of the tables when Shawlong entered, followed by a handsome young man with long blond hair tied in a braid.

“Good evening, Ichigo.”

Shawlong was formal and polite. Too much. Ichigo wasn’t used to those formality, so he greeted back without showing any sign of politeness that usually was due to older people.

“Ah, good evening.” He didn’t even stop cleaning.

The blonde man smiled. His smile wasn’t that of a rascal like Di Roy’s, he seemed haughty and gave Ichigo a smugly look.

“So, this is the new rookie?”

“I’m Kurosaki Ichigo. Nice to mee–“

“I’m going to get changed and prepare my position.” He yawned. “Yylfordt Grantz. Don’t make the effort to remember it though.”

Ichigo frowned.

“…why that?”

Shawlong sighed. “Don’t mind him. You’re the fifteenth.”

“Fifteenth what?”

“Rookie. The one who lasted longer, lasted two days.”

“Two days?”

“Grimmjow is not exactly fond of rookies. And nowadays young people are really weak at heart…”

“Grimmjow headbutted me. They’re not the problem, he is.”

“…but you…” Shawlong’s eyes pierced him through. “…you look strong. And I am barely wrong. I have faith you’ll keep this job as long as you need it.”

“Thank… you?”

“I bet 15.000 yen you will last at least a week. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Hey, wait a sec. You made bets on me!? Is that even legal?”

“Nobody needs to know, except me and Grimmjow.”

“Grimmjow?”

“I count on you for freeing him of 15.000 yen next month.”

A sudden desire of going on with that job no matter what -at least for a week- fueled Ichigo and his doubts lessened. Mostly because it seemed like none of the people there believed he could do it. Except Shawlong, but his support was totally interested.

“By the way, why are you cleaning the tables?”

“Uh… Di Roy… told me...?”

Ichigo knew from the start he was tricked. However, the part of him who believed in the good of people (and recalled him he needed a part-time job) didn’t mind those doubts. He stopped scrubbing the surface, but Shawlong made a move with the head towards the other tables.

“It’s always better pass the rug once more. Sorry if I interrupted your work.”

Yylfordt came back when Ichigo was almost finished. He didn’t even look where Ichigo was and started adjusting his position behind the counter. While he was checking the beer dispenser, Di Roy, now wearing the same black t-shirt Ichigo had, came back with a mop. He looked at Ichigo, satisfied, but in the moment he looked at his right and saw Yylfordt, his smug expression disappeared as if an invisible hand slapped him. He frowned, Yylfordt pretended to ignore him – because he clearly gave him a quick glance and grinned. Everything happened silently, and in silence Di Roy started moping the floor. Ichigo didn’t understand well, but he didn’t want to mingle into something that wasn’t his business. Not on his very first day of job.

By the time Ichigo finished, a huge man walked in. His head was half black, half covered in long red hair. It seemed a cool haircut, but it didn’t really suit the man, considering he could have been at least ten years older than Ichigo. He had a pair of glasses with a white frame. But what Ichigo was inspecting wasn’t his head, rather his arms: they were so thick that he could have sent him to sleep with a single slap. Was there a t-shirt big enough for him? The man turned, exposing to Ichigo’s eyes the shaved half of his head, where there was a red line… his eyebrows seemed to continue up to his head. Did he have an eyebrows complex like his friend Renji?

“Oh, the new kid.”

He raised an arm, Ichigo was ready to avoid it, but the man, despite his built, was fast and he patted his huge hand on his back. Ichigo felt his soul trying to leave him through the lungs.

“How much time this time?”

He was a loud mouth.

Yylfordt chuckled. “I say two days.”

“Two days?” The man inspected Ichigo. “Uhm… I say tonight. He’s too skinny.”

“I’m not skinny.” Ichigo said, but nobody listened to him.

“At least not as skinny as Di Roy. Don’t you think, Edrad?”

Edrad , the half-shaved man, laughed. “I grant you that!”

All of a sudden , Di Roy’s voice popped out, growling but loud enough to be heard.

“One month.”

Yylfordt and Edrad turned to him.

“What did you say?” Yylfordt was mocking him. “One month?”

“I bet 20.000 yen that he’ll last at least one month.”

Everybody in the room was talking about Ichigo as if Ichigo wasn’t there. But the center of the attention became Di Roy, who looked shorter and had nothing more to laugh about. He seemed angry, but not towards Edrad, he wasn’t even looking at him. He was glaring at Yylfordt. And Yylfordt seemed amused.

“20.000 is a huge amount. What if you lose?”

“Then I’ll give it to you.”

“I don’t need money.”

“Well, if I win, you’ll give it me!”

“It’s not a bet if I don’t agree.” Yylfordt shrugged and gave him his back. “I don’t bet on something that it’s already settled.”

“It’s not settled, princess! Grimmjow hired him!”

Probably Yylfordt didn’t hear anything else after _princess_. Because he turned again, and  Ichigo almost believed he was another man: his face lost all the beauty, it turned into a mask of rage and there was nothing beautiful anymore in his enraged features. Ichigo kept an eye on them, but his whole body was ready, in case something flew in his direction – Yylfordt seemed ready to aim at Di Roy with the heavy-looking stein he had in his hand.

“Take-that-back.”

Di Roy smiled.

“I won’t, _princess_.”

Ichigo was sure Yylfordt was about to lose it and his mind already pictured the flying stein. But a voice destroyed the tension crackling between the two.

“If you have time to chit-chat, better use it to find another work, nosey bastards!”

Grimmjow , who appeared from nowhere, didn’t scream, he just raised his voice, but his eyes were cutting the air and both Di Roy and Yylfordt looked like someone who regretted their actions.

“Sorry, Grimmjow.”

Di Roy slammed the mop on the floor and rubbed it as if he wanted to erase the pattern of the parquet. Edrad flew right into the kitchen and Yylfordt was gaining back his calm and beauty.

“Sorry, Grimmjow.” He didn’t sound as sorry as Di Roy, but it seemed like Grimmjow was satisfied.

Ichigo waited for him to say something else, but he took a small folder from behind the counter and walked towards the storage room with his eyes fixed on a paper. Di Roy swiftly got closer to Ichigo.

“If you resist for a month, I’ll give you half of the money.”

“I thought there isn’t a bet.”

“Edrad was there, he’ll tease the shit out of Yylfordt until he’ll give me the money if I win.”

“That doesn’t sound really correct.”

“I don’t care.” Di Roy blurted out. “I hate him.”

For an instant, Di Roy seemed like a child devoured by untainted hate. Not an adult who had a job, but a boy who just couldn’t stand another boy because he just didn’t like him.

“I see.”

“Hah… don’t you ask me why?”

“It’s not my business.” Di Roy looked surprised and again Ichigo thought he was really young. “How old are you, by the way?”

“Twenty-one.”

“What?! I though you attended at least high school as me!”

“What does it mean _at least_?”

Ichigo was puzzled. “It’s because you’re short.”

Di Roy snapped.

“What does that even mean?! I’m not hitting you with this mop only because you need to be clean and neat at work and Grimmjow would kill me otherwise!”

He swung the mop towards him like a sword. Ichigo, despite his rage, didn’t feel a real treat.

“Why that reaction? There’s nothing wrong with being short.”

“You–“

But Grimmjow came back and Ichigo never knew what he was, because Di Roy switched back to work so fast he almost disappeared under his eyes.

There was also another member of the crew, Nakeem. Ichigo missed him because he was already in the kitchen when he arrived.

Di Roy explained him many things. When they were done with the preparations, he dragged him around a small table with two chairs and started talking, beginning with stating all of them weren’t Japanese – there was no need for a confirmation, Ichigo thought. He talked mainly about his colleagues and Ichigo noticed he talked about everyone, even few things about Grimmjow, but didn’t say a word about Yylfordt.

“But he’s a silent one.”

“You compensate for him, huh?” Ichigo pointed out.

“What’s with that detached look, brat?”

“I’m not a brat!”

“You are since I’m your senior!” Di Roy snickered, looking younger than he was. “And I’ll make sure you resist for a month.”

“I have to resist until the end of my third year.”

“Do you need money that bad?”

The chair cracked a bit when Ichigo rocked himself on the rear legs.

“Not really, but–“

“Hey, if you break that chair, I’ll break your neck.”

Grimmjow had a strange ability. He managed to appear from nowhere, like a predator who jumped out from the forest: the pub was his territory, Ichigo his new prey. Like it happened when Yylfordt seemed to be on the verge of knocking out Di Roy with a stein, Grimmjow popped out when nobody expected it, silent and dangerous like a feline. Di Roy was used to it and just raised his head; Ichigo wasn’t and fell on the floor with the whole chair, who remained in one piece.

“Ow ow…” Ichigo rolled on himself, grateful that the floor was clean.

Grimmjow raised only the chair.

“Looks like your neck is safe for now. Don’t slack off, we open at 19 straight.”

“…y-yessir.”

And he disappeared again.

Ichigo lifted himself grabbing the edges of the table, he wasn’t feeling the right leg anymore.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Di Roy didn’t seem worried.

“Don’t ruin your legs. You’ll need them.”

Ichigo sat down and massaged his leg. “Tell me, Di Roy. Nakeem and Edrad work in the kitchen, Yylfordt at the counter, Shawlong is the bookkeeper but sometimes helps at the counter, you are the waiter.” He raised five fingers of his right hand. “How about Grimmjow?”

“He’s the boss here.”

“...yes, thank you. But what does he do? Except appearing and disappearing to annoy me.”

“He doesn’t do that to annoy you. He’s just like that.” Di Roy corrected him. “Well, he does… everything.”

“Everything?”

“Mainly he is at the counter, but when there are many people he may be at the counter or help me with clients. I’ve never seen him in the kitchen… and he’s the bouncer.”

“Bouncer?”

“That’s why I told you to go straight to him if you have any problem with a client.”

“I see…”

“You’ll see tonight.”

“You’re saying it as if he bounces people out every day…”

While they were talking, Ichigo was sure Ylfordt looked towards them many times. When he finally caught his glance, the only time Yylfordt was too slow to lower his head, Ichigo asked him “Do you have anything to say?”

Yylfordt smiled. When Ichigo wasn’t paying attention, he tied his hair 

“It’s not amusing hearing brats talking.”

Di Roy snorted. “Then change channel.”

He surely wanted to throwback with a fantastic line, but that was poorly done and Ichigo pitied him a bit as Yylfordt ignored him. That angered Di Roy more than any laugh or insult.

A boss who seemed a threatening beast ready to devour his subordinates in case of mistakes and a bunch of subordinates whose relationship seemed based on hate and couldn’t get along. Ichigo wondered how they managed to arrive up to that point. And if the whole pub would have sunk before he could reach the month in there.

The first clients were some boys who couldn’t have more than 25 years. Di Roy poked Ichigo’s back.

“Use this as a warm up.”

“Got it.”

Ichigo felt Di Roy’s eyes on him and was sure Yylfordt too was looking at him. Maybe, somewhere in the darkness, Grimmjow was looking at him too. Even if it was difficult to picture him since the cozy lights of the pubs enlightened the place. The idea sent shiver down his spine anyway.

Ichigo smiled at the clients, wrote down the order and went for the drinks. Then he brought them the drinks, took the money and, at last, brought the food – do you want anything else? No? Okay, perfect.

He wasn’t done with them yet and other people entered. Ichigo imagined the habitual clients of the Sexta -which he wasn’t able to pronounce properly yet- being adults not-really-reliable; maybe late workers who just wanted to get drunk. But that wasn’t the case. There were some young people, groups of friends, some adults over the forties and -above Ichigo’s expectations- three families with their kids.

Even if Ichigo barely had time to be surprised. He wasn’t running but kept walking in any direction without a break. Welcoming the clients, bringing them to a table, the order, other clients, another order, drinks, food, drinks, drinks, clients, food, more food – one kid poured her coke and was crying.

“There no need to cry. I’ll bring you another one.”

Di Roy suggested him to do so. Cleaning. Another coke, the kid wasn’t crying anymore, clients, clean a table. Don’t smash against Di Roy while turning around with the tray filled with beers.

He kept being busy but not overwhelmed by his work. He was doing everything with calm, even if his stomach flinched whenever Grimmjow appeared in his vision field.

Grimmjow was behind the counter, chatting with those who looked like habitual clients and pouring them all the drinks they could pay for. The family of the coke-pouring-kid called for him and Ichigo stopped staring at his boss laughing. He looked like a savage animal even while laughing, which was such a human action. But the women at the counter seemed to love every part of him. And, leaving aside the first impression Ichigo had of him, he truly was–

“Rookie.” Di Roy called for him as he was bringing four slices of cake at the table. “Clean the table near the door.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Usually you reply with one yes! Don’t speak rudely!”

“Who are you? My mother?!”

He put the empty glasses on a tray, cleaned the table with a rug and brought the steins to the counter. It was always Yylfordt who made his orders. Di Roy always went straight to Grimmjow and Ichigo had no particular grudge -unlike his _senpai_ \- so there was no problem to him.

“You’re doing surprisingly well.”

It was almost ten. Many people arrived, but they went straight to the counter to take their drinks before taking a seat. Di Roy and Ichigo were waiting near the counter, both glancing at the local from time to time. Ichigo started feeling his feet itching but endured the sensation.

“Surprisingly?” He raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you all believe I’ll quit in no time.”

“Not me.”

“You hope I won’t quit in no time.”

“There’s only a little difference.” Di Roy stretched his arms behind his back. “And it’ll be better for everyone if you stay. Because if I have to work again with Luppi…” He made a disgusted grimace.

“Who’s that?”

“One who worked with us for a while. I’m still not sure how Grimmjow didn’t kill him…”

“Because it’s forbidden by the law and he would end up in jail maybe? Just guessing…”

Di Roy laughed. “You’re funny sometimes. And you look like you have a stick up your ass.”

Ichigo suddenly flushed. “What?!”

“I mean, you move around really rigid. Even if you have that kind smile with the clients, as soon as you turn around you are again all grumpy. You’ll have wrinkles here soon enough this way.” Di Roy pinched the skin at the corner of his eyes. “Right here.”

“You’re speaking like my uncle.” Ichigo raised his head. He froze. “Oh no...”

Di Roy didn’t understand why his eyes widened in horror and his body stiffened like that. With a swift move, Ichigo hid behind a wooden column.

“What’s wrong?” Di Roy looked at the door. He spotted two habitual clients. “Detective Shiba and detective Hirako. Do you have any trouble with justice?”

“No…” Ichigo looked away. “Kaien Shiba is… like… my uncle.”

“Then why are you hiding?” A sudden thought made Di Roy shiver. He hid next to Ichigo, pressing his back against the column. “Rookie… did you tell your family about your part time job?”

“…not yet. I wanted to be sure first.”

“…goddammit. You’re in trouble now.”

And then, both heard the last voice they wanted to hear.

“And why that?”

Grimmjow was looking at them with the arms crossed under his chest. He was clearly wondering why they were chatting instead of doing their job.

“School things.”

Ichigo sucked at lying, even Di Roy, who wasn’t able to keep his face straight, could tell.

“If it has something to do with the pub, spit it out. Otherwise, go back to work.”

Ichigo selected the second option. He spotted a table where the remnants of a dinner were lying on the plates, walked around Grimmjow, ready to look around to avoid being in the visual field of his uncle and his friend and… bounced directly against a client.

“Oh, my bad.”

Two things happened at the same time and the conflict short out his brain. From one side, Grimmjow’s suffocating look was piercing his back, from the other, the voice of his uncle and then his puzzled look, struck his chest. It resulted in the freezing of his frontal lobe and, instead of a quick excuse, his mind sent him a flat line.

“Ichigo?”

Ichigo was often compared to his uncle. Different hair and eye color, but their features and attitudes were alike. Despite that, their behaviors differed. Kaien Shiba was joyful and not “rigid” -as Di Roy would have stated later- like Ichigo Kurosaki, mainly because Ichigo was a teenager and built a cool detached character of himself he wanted to stick to. Kaien had already went over that phase.

Kaien had a bright smile on his face when he realized he had just bumped into his beloved nephew.

“Ichigo! Are you here with your friends? But hey–“ He poked his forehead. “–isn’t a bit late for your age? You have school tomorrow.”

Before Ichigo could open his mouth, Kaien noticed the t-shirt and the apron. The smile froze on his face. He put both arms on Ichigo’s shoulders, looked directly into his eyes. Ichigo couldn’t look away from that severe gaze and almost felt guilty. Then, Kaien headbutted him and Ichigo saw pure white for a second before a hand squeezed the top of his head.

“Ichigo. You have to tell these things to your favorite uncle! This is not how I raised you!”

Ichigo smacked his chin with the palm of the hand wide open. “You didn’t raise me, you dumbass! And you’re not my favorite uncle!”

“Is that the way to talk back to your favorite uncle?!”

“Are you even listening?! I must go back to work.”

“I didn’t raise you to be such an unpolite thug!”

“Who’s the unpolite thug?!”

“You, of course!”

Hirako Shinji, the detective working with Kaien and his best friend, sighed.

“What an idiot. Just let the kid be.”

Grimmjow , who had stayed silent up to that moment, gave a quick glance to Di Roy. “Go back to work.” And there was no need to repeat it. Then, he grabbed by the collar Kaien and Ichigo, dragging them to the door.

“W-what?! What are you doing?!”

Ichigo tried to free himself, but it was almost impossible. Grimmjow was handling with two males more or less as tall as him and it looked like he was bringing out two small dogs: no effort at all, despite the were trying to walk away from him.

“Grimmjow, what the–“

Kaien tried to talk to him, but he wasn’t struggling as Ichigo was.

The clients of the pub were curious, but not seriously interested: Grimmjow kicking someone out of the pub was no big news. The chatting didn’t stop, just swung a bit in tone, down and up again when Grimmjow threw uncle and nephew through the door.

“I give you five minutes to settle whatever is going on just because it’s you Kaien. Then the kid goes back at work.”

Outside was cold and the wind started blowing again. Kaien had a jacket, but Ichigo was only wearing the light t-shirt. Grimmjow leaned near a window, under the circle of light of a streetlamp, and, unlike Ichigo, he wasn’t feeling the cold on his arms. Next to him, Hirako, who followed them, looked annoyed.

“I just wanted to drink a beer and it turned into a family thing again.” He sighed. “The Kurosaki-Shiba combo will be the death of my fun.”

Grimmjow was looking at his watch.

“Ichigo, why are you working here?”

Kaien turned serious and Ichigo was taken aback. It was easier dealing with his uncle, as well as his father, when they acted like idiots.

“Because I want to collect money without asking dad. I told you about that.”

“Yes, I know.” Kaien massaged his forehead. “But I thought you would have looked for a job into a café, or a minimarket or a shop. Not here!”

“What’s wrong here? You seem like a habitual client.”

“What if some pervert drug dealer–“

“If you think so low about my pub, go the fuck away.” Grimmjow pointed out, but Kaien had no ears for him.

“–lures at you and chases you when you go back home at night?! I’m sure many old perverts have already lusted after you by now, hoping to grope your ass! And maybe wearing a maid skirt!”

Hirako frowned. “That’s a very detailed fantasy of a pervert, Kaien. Just don’t say that with such a serious face.”

Ichigo lost all the hopes. His eyes turned into the mirror of a dead soul. “I won’t ask you where all of this comes from…”

“Don’t give your favorite uncle that disgusted look!” Kaien puffed. “Alright… have you told Isshin?”

“No. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

“I’m counting on it.” Kaien looked at him with attention. “I’ll bring you home when–“

“No!” Ichigo interrupted him. “I’ll go to Chad’s place. I’m going to do this on my own, uncle!”

“Have you thought about school? You’ll only have a little sleep.”

“It’s not like I’ll work every day and I can rest during the afternoon. I don’t have any club activity.”

“But–“

Suddenly, as fast as he was, Grimmjow reached Ichigo and slammed his hand on his back. It wasn’t as strong as Edrad’s but the surprise amplified the pain.

“Okay, we’re done with the family show. Time to go back to work.”

Kaien opposed. “It’s barely two minutes!”

“If my waiter doesn’t bring his maid-skirt-ass–“

“What did you say?!”

Grimmjow ignored Ichigo and looked at a shocked Kaien. “–inside the pub right now, you’ll be the one serving, Kaien. And you know I can take out a maiden dress that’ll fit you.”

Ichigo didn’t want to know why his uncle was bothered by the idea of someone lusting after him, nor why Grimmjow owned a maiden dress and where that maiden dress joke came from. Sometimes ignoring things was the best way to feel safe. He headed into the pub and Shinji put an arm around his neck before he could reach the entrance.

“Let’s go, Ichigo. I need at least two beers now to skyrocket my mood where it was before this little display of unrequired family love.”

Ichigo fell on the chair. The half hour when his uncle and Shinji were there drained more energy from him than the rest of the evening. Shinji drank a lot, but Kaien, probably because he wanted to keep an eye on Ichigo without bothering Grimmjow, kept ordering on thing after the other; when Shinji decided he had wasted enough money on alcohol and French fries, Kaien was blabbering about how he loved his wife and his whole family – that was probably the reason Shinji decided to drag Kaien outside, but had to give him a piggyback because he couldn’t walk in any direction without wobbling.

When his uncle left, Ichigo had the impression Yylfordt started looking at him as if he was an actual existent human being, instead of ignoring him. Then the closing hour arrived and, when Ichigo and Di Roy were done with cleaning the pub, Yylfordt spoke to him first.

“Tired?”

Ichigo looked at Yylfordt.

“Not at all.”

“That was a surprise?”

“What?”

Yylfordt snickered. “Once Kaien talked about his sweet Ichigo and we all believed he was talking about a girl. It turned out you’re a boy.”

“What?”

Edrad snorted. “Well, he kept saying how he was worried that some old pervert could ambush you or bother you on your way to school. A punk-looking boy isn’t the first thing you think of.”

“A punk-looking…? Hey.”

Ichigo tried to ignore the comment and focused on the desire of slamming his uncle’s head against a wall.

“Ah, that idiot…” He leaned his cheek on the palm of the hand. “And I’m not a punk-looking boy.”

Ichigo glared at him and, in their eyes, he fitted perfectly into the frame of a high school delinquent.

He didn’t know the reason why Kaien had always cared to him more than to his sisters – who were younger, and it would have been more reasonable that their uncle was worried for them and not for him. But that was a fact. Then, some time before Ichigo started his third year, Kaien turned obsessed by the fact that Ichigo could attract perverts. Ichigo felt like nothing in particular changed into him, nor his physical appearance had a huge turn – his growth spurt happened during the passage from middle school to high school. But Kaien started being worried about his nephew more than Isshin was. Even if he wasn’t obsessive, he kept giving Ichigo more recommendations than he needed.

“If there’s nothing else to do, I’ll go home.” Which was Chad’s home, at least for that night.

Grimmjow raised his head from the screen of the register. “Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. You’ll work these days. On Thursday and Sunday, you’ll bring your ass out of here before midnight.” And he went back checking the data.

Ichigo didn’t expect him to talk, so he was a bit late with his reply. “Got it.” He waited for him to say something more, maybe about what happened with his uncle. Grimmjow noticed he was still there and frowned at him again. Ichigo startled.

“I won’t let you sleep here. This is not a hotel.”

“I don’t need it.”

It seemed like Grimmjow had nothing else to say on the matter. Ichigo went to the lockers, got changed and took his rucksack. By the time he was finished, Grimmjow wasn’t there anymore, nor Yylfordt. Di Roy, sat near Edrad, was yawning.

“Hey Rookie.” He showed his silver smile. “Keep on with the good job.”

“You really want to win that bet, huh?”

“Of course, I do!”

Edrad gave him a pat on the shoulder that was a bit too powerful to be friendly: Di Roy almost fell from the chair.

“You’re still trying to get Yylfordt somehow? Wasted time, you’re no match for him.”

“Shut your trap, Edrad!”

Ichigo wasn’t interested in that conversation and headed to the door. “I’ll see you on Thursday. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Rookie.”

Edrad didn’t greet him but made a move with his hand that could mean everything.

Ichigo entered the cold of the street and the vague sensation of lethargy that was menacing of keeping him locked to the chair vanished, but the warmth on his cheeks remained.

He survived his first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter was better when I first wrote it. Must be the maid dress joke.


	3. Chocolate is better than people, so be a chocolate – but beware the cannibals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo faces a serious problem at work. Surprisingly, is Grimmjow who helps him out.

Ichigo wasn’t haughty. Despite he recognized he had values and somehow was worth something, he had never boasted about his qualities, nor enjoyed towering over the others. However, there was a thing he was pride of and would have never let go of that: between him and his father, he was the normal one and that was a relief.

His father, Kurosaki Isshin, was sitting in front of him, inspecting him with a severe look that made Ichigo believe, for a handful of minutes, that his father could be serious for a long time without feeling the need of acting dramatically.

Actually, Ichigo waited to tell his family he found a part time job for two reasons.

First one: he wanted to be sure to get one. Without being certain of the outcome, he would have only received encouraging hugs and sentences worth nothing but getting him flustered and nervous. Ichigo wasn’t a big fun of counting chickens before they hatched and kept for himself his plans until he fulfilled them. And there was a certain amount of irrational superstition around telling something that was in between success and failure.

Second reason, probably the only real one: he didn’t know how his father could react. Kurosaki Isshin was a big question mark, not because Ichigo couldn’t predict his reactions, as he basically had two or three patterns of response to external impulses. The real problem was that Ichigo didn’t know what behavior he should have dealt with: proud father? Worried father? Strict father? Probably not the last one, as he was more protecting towards Karin and Yuzu, Ichigo’s little sisters, since when his only male son entered high school.

“A part time job.” Isshin repeated and Ichigo thought his father was trying to recollect his ideas. “That’s a good thing, Ichigo. This way you can grow responsible–“

“I’m already responsible.”

“–and save some money for you. I mean, this is the right age.” Isshin nodded again, his arms crossed against the chest.

“Right age?” Ichigo wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or just to himself.

“You can use this money to go out with your girlfriend.”

“What girlfriend?”

“Who am I to put a paddock around my son’s heart? It’s just normal that a teenager in the years of his blooming feels the need for company.”

Ichigo tried to stop his father. “Why did you shift to this topic?! I’m not saving money because I want a girlfriend! What kind of father are you?!”

“Ichigo.” Isshin trapped his eyes in a severe gaze, pinning his son down. His ability to shift his mood from serious to stupid and back again was stunning. “Whatever you’ll do, protection is the first thing when doing the do.”

That conversation started as a simple communication of facts and turned into a lecture concerning partners and sex. Something that Ichigo didn’t need because, number one, he already knew how to behave in certain situations because they had sex ed in class and he was clever enough to do some research on his own; number two, he didn’t have anyone to help him put in practice his father’s warnings.

“Dad–“

“Sure it’s nostalgic, isn’t it?” Isshin shifted his gaze from his son to the window. There was a feeble smile on his face and Ichigo didn’t know how mother nature could help him for his little theatre, sending a ray of sun to delineate his features. “It seems yesterday that you were the small boy who kept crying for everything. And now you, the grown up who always got punishments from the dean, turned into a fine grown up with a job.” He sighed.

“That only happened once.” Ichigo reminded him. “And I just stopped some seniors from breaking the arm of my classmate. But I was the only one blamed and– are you even listening to me?!” Some tears were forming at the corner of Isshin’s eyes; he didn’t look like he was even hearing Ichigo’s voice.

Ichigo wanted to get off that rollercoaster of a conversation, but it seemed like the doors were already locked and he couldn’t move, because Isshin continued unfazed.

“I know you are clever, but I was a boy too, and sometimes the body takes over the brain. So, it’s better being ready in advance.”

“In advance for what?”

“For the ultimate act of nature…”

It seemed like he had a programmed set of sentences and was just randomly throwing them out without reading the signs on the stressed face of his son.

“…you mean sex. Call it by its name. And how did we go back to this topic?!”

“Don’t say that aloud! Your sisters may hear you!”

“I’m sure they know more than you believe.”

“Why that? Who told them?!” Ichigo suddenly regretted his words: here it came the silly dad directly from the middle age to protect his daughters. “I’m going to protect them! At least until they’re thirty!”

“Are you an idiot? You obviously can’t.”

Ichigo didn’t want to witness anymore of his father’s idiocy. It seemed like him having a job was a good thing and that was enough. He stood up and, mixed with the screech of the chair on the floor, he clearly heard a rustle of feet moving away. Yuzu was overhearing but her poor attempt of making him believe she was doing something else didn’t manage to deceive Ichigo. She threw herself on the sofa, next to Karin, pretending she was interested in a Power Ranger episode -she didn’t particularly like Power Rangers- but kept throwing glances at him. In the end, right before Ichigo could put a single foot on the stairs, she squeaked out his name.

“Ichi-nii! Do you have a part-time job?”

Karin huffed from her nose. “It’s normal. He’s almost an adult and wants his own money, Karin.” She wasn’t interested in the matter. All she cared about was ending the episode hearing what the characters were saying and not her sister babbling about their brother. She scratched her belly under the t-shirt.

“Yes. Nothing strange.” Yuzu was showing on her face a mixture of worry and curiosity, so Ichigo felt the need to add something else. “I’m a waiter in a pub and I’ll work only on the weekend, so–“

A rumble from the kitchen united the spirits of the three Kurosaki siblings under the same unease feeling. Isshin dashed into the living room in a powerful spin that lead him towards his son like an arrow. Ichigo spotted the kick aiming at him, dodged it with a swift shift to the right and let gravity doing the rest of the work: his father ruined directly on the stairs, ending up in a very ridiculous pose with his rear up and his legs dangling down over his head. Despite being a forty-something man, he stood back with an energy that had nothing to lose against younger people.

“Ichigo! You didn’t tell me what kind of part-time job you found!”

“You didn’t ask.” Ichigo was calm, a bit annoyed. “I’m going to my bedr–“

But Isshin blocked his way with his whole body. A huge human -and annoying- barrier. His eyebrows were a single thick line of disappointment and Ichigo believed his father was only one step away from snorting smoke from the nostrils.

“Stop right there!” In a second, he shifted from a ridiculous attitude to a serious behavior that made him almost seem like a normal parent. “Ichigo, have you considered this thoughtfully?”

“I have. Now let me pass.”

“Having such a job is no joke. You should make sure this doesn’t interfere with your duties.”

“I won’t have troubles with school.”

Isshin was surprised and his mood reflected on Ichigo, who couldn’t tell why his father was looking at him as if he had just said something unusual.

“Who cares about school? I was talking about your turns for cleaning and taking out the trash.”

Karin, from her spot on the sofa, let out a deep sigh. “What a thoughtful father we have…”

Ichigo decided he didn’t want to listen anything more of that. He was about to pierce through his father, when something clung on his waist from behind. Yuzu was squeezing her arms around his stomach, she was pouting in the attempt of looking angered, but she only looked like a small cute girl who couldn’t be mad at anyone by nature.

“You didn’t tell me about your job, I’m mad.” She declared. “But I wish you good luck. You’ve been great at finding a job.”

“It’s not such a difficult task. There’s plenty of people looking for a high schooler to make use of.”

“Ah. But when Karin-chan told me you were looking for a job, she also said it would have been difficult for you because you have been getting involved in fights since middle school.”

Ichigo looked at Karin, who was busy at not losing a single word of the episode and didn’t look back; then he glanced at his father, who was rubbing his chin covered in a small layer of black beard and giving off he was proud of something Ichigo couldn’t see.

“My dear son, you should know it’s impossible to hide something to me. I already knew before you told me.”

Karin spoke again with the same bored tone of voice she had been using from the start. “I just happened to see you in a café where they were looking for employees. It was easy to make the sum. Dad didn’t know anything, and he overheard while I was telling Yuzu.”

“You two acted suspicious! Who knew if you had troubles with guys? I need to protect my daughters!”

This time, Karin looked towards them, her eyebrows contracted in a severe glance. “Spying on your daughters in their room? You are just creepy. And wanted to hear some gossip.” She added.

Those words were enough to pierce right into Isshin’s soul and shatter it in countless numbers. It was like he deflated: his whole body was deprived of all energies and couldn’t stand up anymore. Isshin spread on the stairs with his eyes emptied of every emotion staring at the ceiling without seeing it.

Ichigo took into consideration leaping over him. “Yuzu, you can let me go now.” And, when her sister released the hug, he did it. With a single jump, he was at the other side of his father. “Call me for dinner, okay?”

“Okay…” Yuzu nodded. When Ichigo disappeared into his room, and she heard the sound of the door closing, she called his father. “Dad, don’t lay down on the stairs or you’ll get a back ache again.”

Karin snorted. “Just let him go, Yuzu.”

The first week was tough. Ichigo still hadn’t gotten used to his new routine and the first days he woke up in the morning with his muscles aching and his eyes that didn’t want to open. But the most difficult barrier remained his father. When he said weekends, everyone thought Saturday and Sunday. Ichigo had to confess that the so-called _weekend_ had also Thursday and Friday in it and  Isshin lost it: he hugged his son covering his shoulder in disgusting nasal discharge until Ichigo kicked him away. It turned out he wasn’t angry, he was only proud of his son who took such a great responsibility and sad because he would have felt lonely and that was another step of Ichigo from leaving the house. When Ichigo left, Yuzu was patting on their father’s head, watched by Karin. After that, lining up in front of the door to greet Ichigo before he left for work seemed to become a new habit in the Kurosaki family; even Karin, who was more difficult to drag into silly things than Yuzu, stood there waving her hand.

When the second week of work started, Ichigo had the feeling he spent more than one month there. That Thursday evening of work had all the premises to seem longer than it was.

“Good evening.”

Despite being at the beginnings, Ichigo had already grasped many of the things-to-remember. The number of tables, the faces and names of some habitual clients, how to behave with his colleagues and, especially–

“Move your ass and get changed, brat.”

–the fact that Grimmjow probably would have never liked him. Not really important from Ichigo’s personal point of view, because the dislike was reciprocated, but since he was his boss he had to endure his shitty behavior.

“I’m moving.”

Di Roy told him it was better not clashing against Grimmjow to have a serene working atmosphere. Yet, sometimes, Ichigo couldn’t just resist and had to throw back something. He wasn’t submissive and wasn’t having it because he did nothing wrong and Grimmjow had no reasons to be so surly if not because he didn’t like him. However, despite Di Roy’s fears, Grimmjow seemed to be indifferent to Ichigo’s throwbacks, which made the boy even more irritated.

“Thursdays are quite like a Purgatory.” Coming out from the locker room, Ichigo heard Edrad. “They could be calm or a rush, you never know.”

“That’s not the description of a Purgatory.” Yylfordt pointed out. “It’s more like a gamble.”

Everyone was sitting around a round table -even Nakeem, who hardly went out from the kitchen- with a beer in front of them. They were playing with dices. Di Roy spotted Ichigo and pointed the chair next to him, inviting him to follow them.

Shawlong nodded towards him. “You’ve resisted well until now, Ichigo.”

Ichigo somehow liked Shawlong. He seemed the type who always looked down on the others, a snob who had high parameters to decide who could interact with him and who couldn’t. But he was always open to talk with anyone and had a deep knowledge in many fields, which made him sound full of himself – and sometimes he really was. Ichigo decided he was the one to turn to whenever he needed (but he wanted to be in need as less as possible), also because he was the only one, together with Di Roy, he managed to have a decent interaction with for more than two minutes. Edrad talked to him sometimes, but never much, and when he did, he always smacked a strong pat on his shoulder, sending his breath for a journey out of his lungs. Yylfordt didn’t have a higher consideration of him because he was so friendly with Di Roy – and that handsome bastard told in front of him while snickering. Nakeem was a question mark, Ichigo had never heard him speaking; Di Roy spoke for him during the introductions. And Grimmjow…

“I wouldn’t keep my hopes high if I were you.”

…Grimmjow was Grimmjow and Ichigo couldn’t stand him.

“I’m still here. If I were you, I would talk when I give up.”

Ichigo said as he sat down. He didn’t hope to have some shocking effect on Grimmjow, but the grin on his face was annoying anyway. Fuck that, he wanted to say something and erase his smug smile, even for a little. However, up to now, he had no success and felt like the kid Grimmjow believed he was.

Shawlong smiled. “He resisted one week.”

“One week is nothing.” Grimmjow replied. “There’s still time for him to give up.”

Ichigo received his sharp glance and looked back. Grimmjow took out from a small sack some dices, orange colored, and put them in front of Ichigo.

“Do you know how to play perudo?”

Ichigo frowned. “Uhm… no…?”

A snicker passed along the table.

“Don’t worry, you are a fast learner after all.” Di Roy smiled.

Ichigo was out after only five minutes.

“I didn’t even get the rules…” He commented trying to grasp something looking at the others playing.

“You’ll get used to it.” Shawlong wasn’t trying to console him; his words sounded more like an omen to Ichigo, who foresaw that wouldn’t have been his last time at that strange game.

Nobody arrived to win, even if Di Roy was one dice close to being kicked out of the game. Grimmjow, who had the lead, stood up and everyone knew it was time to work. “Game time is over, princesses. Move your pretty ass and open this shack!”

As usual, Di Roy approached Ichigo. “Yo. You suck at perudo.”

“Until ten minutes ago I didn’t even know that game existed.”

“Nakeem prepared a new special dessert. Don’t dash home as usual tonight. Stay here and try some at the end of the shift, won’t you?”

“I have school tomorrow.”

“Come on, it’s a chocolate cake!”

“Don’t you have school too?”

Ichigo looked at Di Roy. Di Roy looked back at him.

“I told you I’m twenty-one! And I’m attending college so it’s fine! You should care about yourself, high school is no joke.”

“I’m doing fine.” Ichigo glanced at him. “Having you acting like a big brother is kinda strange…”

“Because you’re not used to?”

“No, because I look like your big brother.”

“You little shit! Always saying things with that dumb straight face!”

“Dumb face?!”

And, as always happened when Di Roy and Ichigo got noisy, Grimmjow arrived to maintain the order.

“You two, quit fucking around and have something done.”

When Grimmjow talked his voice was always hoarse. He barked or growled or snickered with that low tone of voice that pierced directly inside Ichigo’s ears; it was bothersome, but not enough to become his personal pet peeve. Grimmjow himself was annoying, but, for some strange reason, Ichigo stood his attitude more than half of his instructors at school. Mostly because Grimmjow was the type of person who always spoke his mind and Ichigo appreciated it.

“What are you looking at?”

Di Roy interrupted his contemplation of Grimmjow who was talking with Yylfordt.

“Grimmjow has some scars around the wrists.” He noticed them during his first day but didn’t pay them much attention; from a closer look, they seemed remnants of a bad wound. “Are they related to his left arm?” At Di Roy’s puzzled glance, Ichigo explained. “I thought it was my impression, but sometimes it seems like he has troubles with his left arm. Like… it can’t complete the movement or something like that.”

“Mind your business.” Di Roy was blunt. “It’s just an old accident.”

“Like your eye?”

After a week with that eyepatch still on, Ichigo realized that either Di Roy had a very bad disease which was taking a long time to heal or there was something else, a scar maybe, that he wanted to hide.

“Like my eye.” It was the first time Di Roy looked at him with something vaguely similar to a true interest. “You’re a sharp observer. I didn’t expect it.”

Ichigo shrugged. “Chocolate cake, you said, huh?” He felt a bit like his father, changing topic like that. But Di Roy went along with it.

“Yes. Nakeem’s sweets are the end of the world, trust me.”

Both Ichigo and Di Roy worked with part of their minds focused on the promise of the cake. At a certain point Ichigo, who saw coming out of the kitchen different sweets but no cake, approached Di Roy and whispered to him.

“Are you sure about the cake?”

“Yes, I am.” And he dashed to a table where a young woman was waving both arms to catch his attention.

It was a nice and calm evening, so different from the rush Ichigo experienced the previous Friday and Saturday. His shift was almost over and, when he noticed it, he couldn’t believe time passed so fast. There was nothing separating him from his return home: almost all the clients were gone, and the ones left had already finished their orders and seemed to busy entertain themselves playing cards or chatting to have something else.

Ichigo was wondering to go get changed when a large group of old men entered. Elegant, refined, totally out of place. They sat anyway. Di Roy was nowhere to be seen, but Ichigo waited, because probably he was about to be back, wherever he was. However, when one of the men raised his hand to catch his attention, Ichigo had to give up and admit he was the only waiter there. He put on his face a fake smile and went to their table.

From up close, they all looked like rich people owning an enterprise, each with their briefcase, their tailor-made suit and expensive shoes. They fitted perfectly into the stereotype and Ichigo gave them half an hour before being all drunk and happy.

“What do you recommend us, little boy?”

Nobody had ever called him little boy since when he had the growth spurt during the summer between middle and high school. Ichigo frowned, but let it slide.

“It depends if you want to eat or just drink.”

“Drink, drink.” The man closest to him declared among a murmur of approval. “Bring us the strongest liquor you have, just to begin. A bottle, please.”

Bingo.

“Alright.”

Ichigo nodded, despite he wasn’t sure how it was a good idea letting those old men drink such a kind of liquor. However, discussing about the bad life choices of the clients wasn’t in the list of the thing he had to do to receive his paycheck. He was about to put away the notebook inside the apron when felt something touching him right on his rear. As he turned, he spotted a wrinkled hand rustling inside the jacked hung on the chair.

“My bad, little boy.” The old man smiled. “I moved too much while looking for my pocket.”

He smiled, his eyes wrinkled and almost closed. Maybe he needed a pair of glasses but was too old and stubborn to admit it.

“No problem.”

Ichigo forgot about that little mistake right away and walked to the counter. There was only Yylfordt.

“The strongest liquor, for that table. A bottle.”

Yylfordt gave a quick glance at the table, then looked at Ichigo.

“Those old men who look like they need a drip-feed?”

“They’re not that old.”

For the first time, even if only for a handful of seconds, they were on the same wavelength: those men looked like they wouldn’t have left that early nor in a good state and already looked like a pain in the ass.

“Tell them how much it costs. I don’t want problems later.”

Ichigo went back to the table, no bottle in sight and many puzzled glances directed at him. The price was okay. He came back to Yylfordt then went back again to the old men, bringing them a bottle of liquor surrounded by some little glasses. He was now welcomed by satisfied looks and words of approval.

“How old are you, little boy?”

Ichigo didn’t the spokesperson, the one who kept calling him _little boy_. He looked like a normal old man, with salt and pepper hair, many wrinkles and an expensive looking suit; but something in the way he was smiling gave  Ichigo the creeps and he didn’t want to be around him more than necessary. It was a first, it never happened. Maybe he was just tired, maybe not, however, Ichigo never turned his back to his instinct. And he didn’t know why he thought about the mistake of that gentle smiling man, which he believed he erased from his mental database. His eyes darted down: no wrinkled hands anywhere near him.

“Enough to work here.” Ichigo placed the bottle and glasses on the table as fast as he could. However, before he could take back the tray, an arm placed around his waist. Ichigo looked down: the skin on the back of the hand had many brownish spots.

If it was a normal situation, that old man would already be in need of some new teeth and someone who pressed a tissue on his bleeding nose while somebody else called an ambulance. But he was a client, Ichigo couldn’t elbow him in the face, even if his stocky fingers were dangerously groping closer and closer to his rear. Inside his head Di Roy’s advice ringed as an alarm bell.

_ “If a client bothers you, don’t come to me, go to Grimmjow.” _

But Grimmjow, who was always around like a vulture, wasn’t there in the only moment Ichigo would have welcomed him.

“I still have some work to do.” Ichigo blurted out in a cold tone. “Enjoy your drink.”

“No, no. Stay here with us a bit, little boy. There are only few clients left after all.”

Ichigo wriggled away from him only because the man was old, and he was young and had more strength. But the same hand grabbed his apron and Ichigo had to resist the urge of smacking his fist on that disgusting face, with those small eyes lusting at him and the creepy half smile. All the other men were snickering. He was surrounded.

_ If he touches me again.  _ Ichigo elaborated in panic. _I’m going to kick him and lose my job. Who the fuck cares!_

He felt again the hand fondling him and the reaction signal from the brain was fast. He raised his arm. However, somebody else was faster. Out of nowhere, another hand grabbed the wrinkly wrist and the mild amusement that was rising around the table vanished under the terror. Ichigo had his fist raised, ready to smack a nose, and didn’t put it down while turning around.

Behind him, Grimmjow was towering in silence.

Probably, if he would have raised his voice and started acting in accordance to the violence burning inside his eyes, it would have been better. Instead, he looked at each of the men sitting at the table without saying a single word until he nailed on the spot each of them. He ignored the squeaks of pain of the man but made sure everyone heard his wrist creaking before he let it go.

“You entered here believing you could harass one of my employees.” His voice was low, dangerous. Ichigo felt lucky he wasn’t the one receiving Grimmjow’s quiet anger, because he was petrified as if he was. “And you did it. You sexually harassed my employee.” Silence. Even the other clients stopped talking. “He could be your nephew.” Now he was speaking directly to the man who touched Ichigo. “Pay your order and leave. Don’t any of you even dare making an appearance here.” The anger was overflowing from him through his eyes and nobody managed to look elsewhere. “You’d regret it.”

None of the men was brave enough to reply. They remained closed as one of them paid and went out without saying a word or raising their eyes, without being far from one another more than two steps, as if they wanted to prevent a surprise attack from that dangerous man. When the door finally closed, Ichigo realized he was holding his breath.

Ichigo looked at Grimmjow, he didn’t notice he had his mouth open. Grimmjow smacked his head, awakening him from the slumbering contemplation he fell into.

“What was that for?!” It hurt. But Grimmjow wasn’t that threatening anymore, he didn’t look like he was ready to break in a half his neck with a single hand: he came back being the usual grouchy Grimmjow. “It hurt!”

“You don’t look like someone who needs help against a bunch of old perverts.” He was scolding him.

“But they were clients! And Di Roy told me to come to you in case of bothersome clients!”

“Bothersome clients are those fuckers who say our beer is piss and French fries are stale. Or those who always want a better table or pretend the other clients to keep down their voice. If someone touches you in a way you don’t want, the first warning is kidness and the second warning is already too much." Grimmjow wrinkled his nose and uncovered his teeth on a snarl. "Don't be kind, smash their fucking heads on the table."

Ichigo didn’t find anything to say. He had just been saved and lectured by his boss, there wasn’t much to add. Grimmjow was right and it seemed liked he really cared. That was unexpected, from the disgusting situation he found himself into to the savage but effective rescue.

Ichigo shoved both hands in the pockets of the apron and looked away. “…thank you.”

“Tch… Kids nowadays.” Grimmjow was sure Ichigo was glaring at his back. “Come on, kid. Go get your share of chocolate cake and go home. It’s already late for you.”

Ichigo wanted to say something else. But all that escaped from his mouth was a feeble “So the cake is real.” and regretted it when he heard Grimmjow laughing.

Around them the few clients, Yylfordt and Shawlong were minding their business. It seemed like nothing happened at all and Ichigo felt it strange. But it was late, and he was tired, so he put that matter among something he would have cleared later – probably never. Hewent to the kitchen, where Di Roy had already scarfed down his share.

“Yo. Everything okay?”

“Yes.”

Probably it was written on his face that it wasn’t everything okay, because Nakeem handed him his share and also gave him a can of coke acting on his own; usually, he waited for someone to speak before reacting, like a robot who only acted upon human voice – Di Roy described it as such. Ichigo sat on a steel table, next to Di Roy. He was still shaken but felt better. When he thought he could do nothing against that kind of situation, he felt like he was trapped and all he could do was resisting until someone (Grimmjow) arrived to save the day. Now he knew he had the chance to defend himself and a huge weight fell down from his shoulders. Or better, as if the invisible shackles that didn’t make him go away from that table vanished.

“Is it good?”

Nakeem spoke and Ichigo believed that was the first time he heard him.

The taste of chocolate exploded inside his mouth as it touched his tongue and the mouthful was so soft that it almost melted before he could swallow it. The chocolate flavor still lingered and Ichigo licked his lips.

“It’s delicious.”

He was almost sure Nakeem smiled.

One week later, that incident became an unpleasant memory Ichigo didn’t share with anyone, nor with his friends nor, especially, with his family; if the news arrived at Kaien’s ears, Ichigo couldn’t imagine his reaction. At work, even Grimmjow didn’t ask him anything and Ichigo realized he was grateful of this.

Everything seemed fine, but Ichigo came to face another dreadful problem that, in retrospect, he should have predicted.

“Ichigo!”

His father was standing in front of the door when Ichigo opened it and he wondered if Isshin spent the whole afternoon waiting for his return from school. For a second, Ichigo was sure his father would have thrown himself at him with his arms crossed like a human projectile as always. But Isshin just stood there, arms crossed, legs spread and chin raised in a melodramatic pose.

“I have important news!”

“You’re leaving for a week.”

“Of course not!”

“A month?”

“Why do you want me to leave this bad?!”

“If you didn’t act like this, maybe I wouldn’t want it.”

Ichigo tried to walk over him, only to discover that Yuzu was right behind Isshin, in the very same ridicule pose. And if Ichigo could ignore Isshin, with Yuzu it was a little more difficult…

“Hello, Yuzu.”

…but just a little. Ichigo shifted beyond them and aimed for his bedroom. “Call me when–“

His usual formula was cut off by Yuzu. “Ichi-nii! This Saturday evening, we’ll be together!”

Ichigo turned back. “Sorry, I have to work. Ask Karin or dad.” He didn’t even inquire what it was about.

A single tear glimmered into Isshin’s right eye. “Why did you say first Karin’s name? But it doesn’t matter!” He clenched his fist. “This Saturday, we’ll come eating where you work!”

“No way. You don’t even know where it is and I’m not–“

Karin was passing by, from her room to the kitchen, where a fresh fruit juice was waiting for her in the fridge.

“Uncle Kaien told us. I hope they have ice cream.” Her voice sounded tired. “Welcome back, Ichi-nii.” She added, with the same uninterested tone, as she walked back from the kitchen.

Ichigo stayed silent until he heard the door of his sisters’ room clicking. Then, he freaked out.

“THERE’S NO WAY IN THE WORLD! ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaien was right.  
> Don't be kind, be Grimmjow.  
> (I feel like this whole story is badly written, but I'll go on with my ship)


	4. When life gives you lemons, if you're not fast enough, it squeezes them into your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One hell of a Saturday for Ichigo.

Ichigo was bothered. He spent five days trying to figure out a way to prevent his family from coming to his workplace. But Yuzu was really -really- overjoyed and she couldn’t wait for Saturday. Karin, despite she tried to maintain a cool attitude, asked Ichigo once about the pub, showing a glimpse of the true interest that burnt inside her. And his sisters were enough for him to bear with his father, who kept the countdown to what he called “Day X” on the calendar and daily reminded to Ichigo he was doomed to receive the visit from his lovely family.

“I’m stuck.”

Rukia Kuchiki was one of Ichigo’s best friends. Much shorter than him, she had a fierce and caring attitude which made her behavior remind that of a mother Valkyrie. Severe in her kindness, comprehensive in her strict moral code; Rukia sometimes behaved like a mother, some others she was childish. Most of the times, she clashed with Ichigo.

Rukia was already attending college and she met with Ichigo because Kaien and Jushiro Ukitake, a friend of Rukia’s family which was like an uncle for her, were great friends. The first time Rukia and Ichigo met, she entered his room without asking and he kicked her out; she kicked him back and that was the strange beginning of their friendship. Ichigo was almost fourteen back then.

“You fool.” She reprimanded him as always. “You should be happy that your family comes to see you.”

“They see me every day at home.”

“That’s not the point. They want to see you now because you grew up. Especially your father. Think about it. His son is growing up fast and now he’s found himself a job, meaning he’s one step further from being independent.”

Rukia sounded so sure, that Ichigo was almost convinced by her words…

“Moreover, you work in a pub. Sooner or later they would have come because of the call of the food.”

…but there it went her nice monologue.

“It’s probably the last thing.” Ichigo scratched the back of his head. “I have a long way before I can consider myself independent from my father.”

“You’re still in high school. It’s normal you’re not independent yet.”

“Don’t talk as if you were that older than me. You’re barely at your second year in college.”

“Fool. Women have a higher mental age than men.”

“Excuse me, granny.”

Rukia , with a straight face, poked into his ribs so hard, Ichigo curled on himself, holding his own torso with both arms.

“Rukia, damn you…”

“Stop whining and think about what’s right in front of you. Since you have no means to stop your family from coming, think about Saturday when it’ll be Saturday.” For some trick of casuality, her hair waved in the gentle wind as she finished talking. Ichigo wasn’t impressed.

“Rukia… I wasn’t whining, you bothered me until I told you what happen–“

Rukia kicked him right in the face. She was so fast Ichigo didn’t see it coming nor he saw that day she was wearing pink panties, unlike the girl who was walking on the other side of the road and run away in fear.

“Don’t ruin the mood with that nonsense!”

“What mood?!”

“You fool, I was giving you precious pieces of advice!”

“I’ve never asked for them in the first place!”

Both yelled at each other. Stopped. Glared at each other. Looked away. Sighed.

“By the way…” Rukia looked back at Ichigo. “…Ichigo, isn’t the reason you wanted a part-time job–“

A car screeched right next to them, cutting Rukia’s words. The vehicle was a luxurious model Ichigo immediately recognized.

From the strong determined woman who matched up Ichigo, another Rukia suddenly bloomed, like a metamorphosis. The pose wasn’t fierce anymore, she kept her legs close and her arms behind the back. Ichigo was always mesmerized how Rukia became another person in front of her brother, Byakuya Kuchiki.

Byakuya’s face, handsome and severe, appeared from behind the window car.

“Rukia, I’ll bring you home.”

Probably Byakuya ended earlier his work and, without giving any explanation nor notice, decided on his own to go fetch his little sister. And Ichigo wondered how in the world he knew where Rukia was. A hidden microphone? He was so rich he could control the cameras on the street?

_ Is this a sort of brother-sister complex? _

Probably yes, judging how Rukia’s cheeks almost turned red.

“Yes, brother!” She turned to Ichigo. “Do you need a ride home?”

Ichigo noticed how something in Byakuya’s face stiffened. He was aware Byakuya wasn’t really fond of him, but, as long as he respected his sister, he respected his sister’s choices in friends. More or less.

“No thanks. I have work tonight, and I think I’ll go directly there.”

Byakuya turned to Ichigo, as if he finally noticed his presence. “You have a job now.”

Ichigo returned the cold look. “Yup.”

“Nowadays even monkeys can find their way to money.”

“M-monkey?”

The screech of tires covered his outraged yell and Ichigo was left alone on the side of the road. He coughed out of his lungs the dust Byakuya’s car raised.

“Damn Byakuya…”

Probably, if Rukia hadn’t insisted to walk home with him, Ichigo would have had enough time to go back home, take off the uniform and go to work. And probably, while going to work, he wouldn’t have casually turned his head when he heard a sob and realize that the girl who was crying on a bench was his sister Yuzu.

“Yuzu?”

Ichigo spoke before he could think about anything else – for example that maybe Yuzu didn’t want anyone to see her. He realized it only when she raised her head and gave him a scared look, as if he caught her doing some mischief. However, before the desperate expression on her face, Ichigo noticed cuts on her knees and hands -she fell\- , dirt on her school uniform and tears rolling from her eyes over the black mark on her right cheek -someone made her fall-

“Ichi… nii…” She sniffled and rubbed her face in the attempt of hiding those bad looks, but she only made worse, dirtying more her skin.

“Yuzu.” Ichigo was immediately in front of her. “What happened?” He looked around, but there was no one nearby that bench except them.

“I…” She took a deep breath shaken by a sob. “…fell.”

“Yuzu, don’t lie to me.”

Ichigo was caring, but too direct and blunt. He knew he made a mistake when it was too late, even if he decided to make it up anyway.

“Yuzu…” He softened his voice. “…tell me what happened. Won’t you?”

“I said I fell!”

Yuzu yelled back, shocking Ichigo enough to break any quick reply from him. Between his sisters, Yuzu was the gentle one, who hardly got angry and even when she did, she was cute for most of the part. But now she was glaring at her hands gripping to her skirt, shaking as if she was on the verge of crying louder and biting her lower lip to hold any sob. She was both sad and angry.

Ichigo wasn’t good at dealing with people, because he was more for a direct approach and, in that case, a rough behavior wouldn’t have helped at all. He sighed. “Why don’t you accompany me to my workplace?”

That worked. Yuzu looked up, the surprise covered for a while her mingling emotions.

“Your workplace…?”

“Yes. If you go back home like this, dad’s gonna make a fuss and we’ll have him yell around in Karakura waving his wooden katana. Having an uncle in the police doesn’t mean we have a free crime ticket each.”

Yuzu was about to chuckle. Ichigo saw the shadow of a smile on her eyes, but then the sadness took her over again, dragging her back to her previous status.

“Let’s go, Yuzu.”

“…okay.”

Di Roy Rinker only wanted a peaceful existence on his workplace. Dealing on a daily basis with Yylfordt Grantz, the conceited princess, wasn’t enough for the karma to punish him?

_ Maybe I was a sort of monster in my previous life.  _ He said to himself glancing at the door, then at Ichigo’s sister sitting on a chair, and back at the door. _Yes, a monster who ate the souls of the livings. This is the only explanation for all this shit put upon me._

When Ichigo arrived quite early with a little kid hid behind him, Di Roy didn’t understand. When Ichigo said he only needed a while to treat his sisters’ wounds, Di Roy would have wanted not to understand and just turn his back to whatever was happening under his nose.

“Among all days, right today when Grimmjow left me here alone?” Di Roy hissed towards Ichigo, low enough to avoid the little girl’s ears.

Ichigo then did something that made Di Roy’s confidence waver: he smiled. Not the fake gentle smile he gave to the clients or the terrible grimaces he made at Grimmjow, a mix between an attempt of looking untouched by the boss’ sharp words. It was a small but sincere smile. Di Roy gave up and gave him the first-aid kit.

“Thank you.”

“Ah, you owe me one, Rookie.”

Ichigo applied some band aids on Yuzu’s knees and a bandage on her right hand, but there was nothing much he could do to hide the black mark on her face or clean the clothes. When everything was done, she looked a little better, even if her eyes were still swollen because of the tears. She took a sip of water from the glass Di Roy brought her – Ichigo commented he was treating her pretty well for someone who kept hissing at him during their search of the tool box and Di Roy showed his teeth like a wild animal.

“Thank you, mister Rinker.” She made a small nod.

“Nah, call me Di Roy.” Then he turned to Ichigo. “From now on, you call me master.”

“As if. There’s no way I’m going to call you like that!”

“Guess who’s the one who saved your pretty rookie’s ass?”

“Don’t use those words in front of my sister! And you did nothing!”

“I found the box tool!”

“I’m more worried because you didn’t know where it was!”

“I bet it was Edrad! He always puts it somewhere else!”

“That sounds like a lame excuse!”

Yuzu looked at them without showing any sign of concern. She was more surprised, because his brother was behaving like he did when he argued with their father: no fake courtesy, no detached looks. She was happy, because in the past few years, when Ichigo entered high school, he turned sullen and smiled less; Yuzu realized that sometimes Ichigo was forcing that attitude out of him and she was afraid that mask he considered cool would have stuck to him and turn into his real self. But as she saw him losing his temper without thinking about maintaining a cool detached appearance, relieved her. Maybe he had found a new friend.

Her thoughts stopped when the door opened, and Ichigo and Di Roy’s voices fell into a deep pit of silence. Both froze.

“Now…” Di Roy stated with an unusual calm. “…I’m going to turn and it’s not Grimmjow.”

“Why don’t you two brats give it a try then?”

It was Grimmjow.

“…we’re fucked up.” Ichigo muttered without turning around.

“You are. I’m not the rookie here.”

Grimmjow reached them. Of course, his eyes fell on Yuzu, who was petrified under his silent gaze.

“Who are you?”

Ichigo opened his mouth. “She’s my–“

“I’m not talking to you.” Grimmjow hushed him with a gesture of his hand. “I’m Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, I own this place.”

“I’m Kurosaki Yuzu. I’m Ichigo’s sister.” Yuzu startled, her voice trembled. But, despite she was a little animal frozen under Grimmjow’s savage glare, she dared to add “It’s not my brother’s fault. And not Di Roy’s. I fell and Ichi-nii wanted to treat my cuts.”

Grimmjow nodded slowly. “You fell…”

Ichigo saw it coming. Grimmjow telling him that wasn’t a kindergarten, that he was supposed to work in there and bring only his own person and that, if he thought he could do as he pleased, he had to leave.

But none of those came. Grimmjow walked past him and Di Roy and disappeared in the kitchen.

The silence was heavy.

“You know, Ichigo… if you go to the North Pole, I guess Grimmjow won’t find you.”

“I did nothing wrong…”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“…he didn’t even seem mad.”

“You’re right…”

They looked at each other.

“He’s sick.” Di Roy declared.

“Maybe he has fever or flu.” Ichigo agreed. “He seemed pale.”

“No no, the face’s the same as always. What if he hit his head and changed personality?”

“Is that even possible?”

Grimmjow went out from the kitchen.

“We could try smashing your heads against the counter and see what happens. Considering your personalities, whatever comes out would be a gain for the world.” He put a slice of cake and a fruit juice in front of Yuzu. “Here.”

She looked up at him. He looked down at her.

“Next time you fall, kiddo, kick the soil hard in between their legs.”

Ichigo shoved himself between them opening his arms to create a shield in front of his sister. “What kind of advice are you giving her?!”

Grimmjow looked at Ichigo. For the second time in less than one hour, someone glanced at Ichigo as if they had just noticed him, despite him being there for the whole time.

“A good advice. Go get changed, this place won’t get cleaned itself.”

“Uh, but I have to bring her ho–“

Yuzu shook her head. “I can go home on my own, Ichi-nii! Don’t worry!” She knew she had better hurry and eat and drink as fast as she could, so she sank the little fork into the cream cake and cut off a piece. The exact moment she put it on her mouth, her eyes gleamed.

“T-this is delicious!”

“That’s the cake of the week. Cream with raspberries.”

Grimmjow should have been more involved in it, prouder of that compliment, Ichigo thought. Yet, he was speaking as if he was listing the errands. Ichigo didn’t recall he had ever seen Grimmjow being around with an expression which wasn’t a collected indifferent look or, sometimes, a grin. Somehow, he remembered Ichigo of Uryu Ishida, his cousin, who more or less always had the same serious expression.

“It’s really good!”

Yuzu said it with a serious look: she meant it.

Ichigo went and changed from his school uniform into the pub uniform. When he came back, Yuzu had already finished both the cake and the juice and was waiting for him next the door. She stared in amaze at the black t-shirt.

“It’s beautiful.” She commented. “It suits you.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Yuzu was playing with a lock of hair. “Uhm… Ichi-nii… Could this remain a secret between you and me? Please.”

Ichigo sighed. “Sure… but if it happens again, tell me.”

She shook her head and clenched the right hand in front of her. “No. I’ll try kick the ground first!”

“What?!”

“I’m going. Thanks for everything!” She said aloud so that everyone could hear her, then opened the door and run away.

Ichigo stomped towards Grimmjow, stopping when there were only few centimeters between their faces. He poked his right index at the center of his chest, giving him a deep glare.

“I swear, if she turns into a thug, the only genitals kicked around here will be yours.”

Grimmjow grinned. “Then I’ll look forward to it. Lately I’ve been growing bored and kicking your ass would help me killing time.”

_ How I want to smack his smug face! _

But Ichigo, for obvious reasons, couldn’t.

Saturday.

Ichigo didn’t know when his family would have showed up. It resulted in him continuously turning to the door as he heard it cracking, until Grimmjow smacked his head casually as he was walking past, without even glancing at him. He had to admit he deserved it.

His family arrived when Ichigo was busy dealing with a bunch of people from his school who didn’t know what they wanted to order. Maybe he was intimidating them, Ichigo knew all the rumors about him. When the smallest of them decided to order a coke, Ichigo heard his father’s voice and, for once, blessed the Saturday evening chaos.

“Yo, Ichigo.” Di Roy appeared next to him, disrupting that sense of relief that made Ichigo lower his guard. “Grimmjow said you have table 15 tonight.”

“But–“

“His orders.”

Di Roy shrugged, leaving a desperate Ichigo heading towards his family. His father was showing off a smug face and smirked like he was up to something. Ichigo was about to roll his eyes.

Karin tilted her head. “So, you’re really working.”

Ichigo frowned. “What did you think I was doing?”

“Going to your girlfriend’s place, stuff like that.”

Yuzu gave a shocked look to her twin. “What are you saying Karin-chan?”

Karin smirked. “Ichigo isn’t the pure boy you think. Puberty hits anyone.”

Isshin shook his head. “My girls, if Ichigo will ever have a girlfriend, he’ll surely tell me without a doubt.”

“You’d be the last one to know.” Ichigo froze him. “Now, would you please order something and stop talking as if I wasn’t here?”

“We can’t order yet.” It was Karin who spoke. Isshin had his face pressed on the table, too busy elaborating the harsh revelation that his son didn’t trust him. “We’re waiting for uncle Kaien and aunt Miyako. Uncle Ganju and aunt Kujaku too are coming.”

Ichigo expected it. What he wasn’t expecting was a harsh pain of something sinking into his ribs. A familiar pain he only associated with… ****

“Rukia?!” She had her arms crossed, as if she hadn’t just violently poked him into the ribs. “What are you doing here?!”

“You fool. We are customers.”

“We?”

She pointed at a table. Orihime waved at him, her smile as big as always, Chad raised his hand. And there were Renji, Tatsuki, Mizuiro and Keigo. Even Uryu. His friends were all there. He also recognized Ikkaku and Yumichika, two of Renji’s classmates from college.

“We’re all here for you!”

Yes, he expected it, but wasn’t prepared for what seemed like an upcoming hellish evening.

“Hey, what’s that satisfied face for? I work here, you know?” Ichigo wrinkled his nose. “You aren’t here because of my uncle and aunt, do you?”

“Me? Absolutely not!” Rukia was saying one thing, but her flustered face was telling another story. “You fool!” This time, Ichigo managed to avoid the ribs-breaker, but he bumped directly

Di Roy dashed behind him “Ichigo, don’t talk with your girlfriend.”

Ichigo’s “She’s not my girlfriend.” was uttered at the same time with Rukia’s “He’s not my boyfriend.” Rukia added a “Who would stay with such a fool?” to which Ichigo replied with a pissed “Who’s the fool?”

It took just a handful of minutes for Di Roy to find the answer to that question: the busty girl at the table who kept glancing at Ichigo would. He kept an eye on Ichigo not because he was worried about his work, but mostly because he was interested in what looked like a full bucket of chunks he could have used in the future to mock him – and gossip about him.

His friends chose the table which was under Di Roy’s cover, but…

“Ichigo, I can’t go to that table now. Please, help me.”

“…Di Roy, you’re smirking. At least try to cover your intentions.”

“I’m just happy for you that your friends are here.”

“Yes, sure…”

Ichigo gave a quick glance around. All the tables under his responsibility were empty or he had already completed his tasks and the rest of his family wasn’t there yet – his father waved at him like a proud dad at his son’s first baseball game in a cornball American movie. Ichigo pretended to ignore him and walked to his friends.

Orihime was the first one to greet him. “Hello, Kurosaki-kun! You work in such a nice place!” She was as cheerful as always.

“Uh, yeah, thanks Inoue.”

Renji slapped his hand on his elbow. “So you did it. I had some doubts you could lie about your age.”

“Yell it a bit louder, Renji.”

At Rukia’s remark, Di Roy, who was nearby, waded in. “Nah, Grimmjow caught him before he could even step in.” And walked away.

Ishida adjusted his glasses. “I see. They accepted you anyway.”

“Anyway?” Ichigo felt his eyebrows twitching, but that wasn’t the right place to pick a fight with Ishida. “Well, when you’re ready to order call me and–“

“What’s this?” Yumichika interrupted him. “It looks yummy, but I never trust photographs.”

“Uh, well, that’s–“

Ikkaku interrupted Ichigo. “What about this beer?” His head was reflecting the lights of the ceiling and Renji didn’t fail to notice.

“How much time did you spend polishing your head, Ikkaku? Don’t tell me that’s why it took you so long!”

“What’s wrong? I don’t come to your room and measure how much time you spend trimming your eyebrows.”

They forgot about Ichigo and Tatsuki took the chance. “Ichigo, I already know what I want.”

“Okay, then–“

He was about to take out his notebook when an arm clenched around his neck from behind, shoving him forward. Ichigo didn’t have to turn his head and look; he already knew who almost put all their weight on him in that half-assed hug.

“Uncle Kaien…”

“Hey! Your favorite uncle is here!”

“You’re not my favorite uncle.”

Somebody slapped Kaien on the head. Kuukaku, her sister, was smiling at Ichigo. There were also the younger brother, Ganju, who looked like he had just escaped from some reproduction of ancient Japan country, and Miyako, Kaien’s wife, who looked like she was totally out of place in that group; she was too gentle-looking, too delicate, too polite to mingle with the Shiba (Ichigo’s father and his uncles and aunt). Yet, there she was.

“I have to work, so–“

“Kaien-sama!” Rukia was next to Ichigo in no time, without him realizing. She shifted from the proud warrior to the worshipping princess. Ichigo thought he saw flowers around his head. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

“Yes, sure...”

Rukia smashed Ichigo’s hip all without dropping her gentle smile.

“Rukia, it’s been a while!”

“Yes, it is!”

Renji was already glaring at Kaien, with Yumichika grinning at him like he knew what was going on inside his brain. Ikkaku was just looking at the menu as Keigo did; but while Ikkaku was seriously involved in the choice of his dinner, Keigo was repeatedly glancing at Ichigo and his family. The rest of the table didn’t even try to hide it.

“Yuzu, Karin and dad are over there.” Ichigo wriggled away from Kaien. “I’ll come as soon as possible.”

Ganju looked suspicious. “Uhm… you act like a grown up.” He was only few years older than Ichigo, so he never managed to consider him his uncle. Kuukaku was way older, but Ichigo didn’t know why he never called her aunt.

“I’m a grown up. Now get lost.”

Ganju smirked. “Oooh, that’s not really what you should say to–ouch!“

Kuukaku grabbed his ear. “Come on, let’s go. I want to challenge my older brothers to a drinking game.”

Ichigo paled. “…I already want to go home…”

As they walked away, Renji was still glaring, Rukia still smiling and Ichigo had all the eyes on him. Ishida took the first word.

“I was wondering, how much fat is there in the hamburger meat?”

That was going to be a very long evening.

Ichigo felt like a pinball.

His family kept calling him and when he was finished with them, it was his friends who looked for him. During the breaks in between the two tables, there were the other customers.

Kujaku kept drinking beer so fast that Ichigo had to bring another when he had barely brought the last one; Ganju asked him whatever was possible about the food and his father was on the verge of tears every time Ichigo was _so professional with the customers_ – and he never failed to almost yell it aloud, making  Ichigo want to sink into the floor. Ichigo was thankful that Miyako was there too and at a certain point convinced them to let Ichigo work in peace.

Of course, there were his friends too. They were less annoying, but Orihime took ten minutes (Ishida counted them) to decide what she wanted to eat because “Everything seems so delicious!”. Ikkaku was about to put himself into trouble with a man who called him baldy, if it wasn’t for Chad who managed to calm him down. Renji’s mood wasn’t cheering up at all, but Ichigo had little time to worry about him.

At a certain point, he realized his father, Kaien and Kuukaku started a drinking contest. Before he could stop them, Grimmjow leant a hand on his shoulder.

“I have to–“

“Let them drink.”

“But my father–“

“I bet on Kuukaku. Stop it and you’ll see your salary dropping.”

“…aren’t you all a bit too addicted to bets in here?” Grimmjow dragged him away, deaf to his protests. “Hey, I can walk on my own!”

In no time, his family’s contest became a show for many of the customers, and Ichigo was glad he was too busy to get close enough to be associated (again) with them. He didn’t worry about his sisters, there was Miyako, but he would have scolded his father at home.

“Kurosaki-kun!”

Inoue had already eaten two hamburgers, three portions of French fries and Ichigo overheard her talking about the dessert.

“Yes?”

“I’d like another coke, thank you!”

She ate more than everyone else at the table and the way she was praising the menu showed how she was planning to eat something else.

“Sure.”

Orihime called him many times. For the napkins, a bottle of water, another portion of French fries, some ketchup and to ask about desserts. When he finally brought them to his friends, the challenge at his family’s table was over.

Barely two hours passed, but Ichigo believed he had been stuck there for at least two days. When the rhythm of the work dropped, his stamina followed, and he suddenly felt his legs weak. About half an hour later, his friends left. Renji not anymore that mad, Orihime always cheerful and Ishida without a single crease or spot on his neat clothes. Keigo, Mizuiro and Tatsuki waved at him.

Rukia remained behind. Ichigo approached her.

“What’s wrong, Rukia?”

She looked at him with such a serious look, he couldn’t find anything to say.

“It seems a nice work.”

“More or less.”

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she just shrugged. “We’ll talk another time. See you, Ichigo.” Rukia run to Renji, who was waiting for her just outside the door.

After a handful of minutes, Ichigo’s family was ready to leave too.

“Are you going away?”

Ichigo felt a bit relieved. He passed the whole evening keeping an eye on them, fearing for something that didn’t have a name nor a shape: he was worried about his family doing something stupid.

“You did good, my son.” Isshin nodded, his eyes still wet; he looked like a solemn warrior staring into the distance. “As I expected from you.”

“Stop it, old man.”

Kaien put an arm around Ganju’s neck; the beer was grinning for them. “I hope we annoyed you!”

“Yes!” Ganju agreed. “Annoying is what Shiba are the best at!”

Miyako sighed. “I’m sorry if we bothered you, Ichigo.”

“Ah, no. It’s fine…”

Her smile was kind, it reminded Ichigo his mother and that managed to help him finding some peace at heart. He smiled back. Yuzu hugged him, Karin at first seemed like she didn’t want to, but then hugged him too.

“Good job at tolerating them tonight.” Karin was serious.

The _them_ , the males of Shiba, all jolted as one. Before they could start one of their tantrum, Kuukaku, who looked sober as if she didn’t drink more beer than the volume of her body, pushed them towards the door.

“You did good, kid.” She ruffled Ichigo’s hair. “At putting up with them.”

Yuzu laughed. “Thank you, Ichi-nii.” She lowered her voice. “Would you say hi to the others for me?”

“Sure.”

The heavy door closed behind them. Ichigo thought that he gave his share of challenges for that evening and the worst was gone. He was wrong.

If he wasn’t so weary because of the stress his family and friends put him under, Ichigo may had noticed before that he knew the two men sitting at the table where until few minutes before there were two nice ladies who kept winking at him – if Di Roy hadn’t remarked it, Ichigo wouldn’t have noticed. He noticed when it was too late, and he had already his notebook in hand and half of the sentence out of his mouth.

“Good evening. Sorry to keep you wai–“

Ginjou Kujo and Shukuro Tsukishima didn’t change at all in two years. Ginjou was still the same, a laid-back man with a sharp look and his lips always ready to grin. Tsukishima was younger than Ginjou but older than Ichigo; attractive and elegant with an ambiguous smile.

Both looked surprised, but not as Ichigo was. Ginjou smiled without hiding his amusement. Ichigo hated it.

“What a coincidence. We’re back in Karakura and one of the first people we met is Ichigo. I barely recognized you. What a change in two years.”

Ichigo tapped the pen on the piece of paper. “What can I bring you?”

“This is all you have to tell us?”

Ichigo was looking at Ginjou but felt Tsukishima’s eyes on himself.

“I’m working right now and, as you can see, we’re busy.”

“I see, I see… what a grown man, huh? Even if you sounded a little bit harsh. I guess it’s normal, after all.”

Ginjou wanted to play with him. Ichigo knew it and needed to calm down. Probably everything that was happening inside him was showing on his face, because Ginjou was too satisfied. He took a breath.

“Do you…” Breath. “…still need time to decide? I can come back later.”

Tsukishima put both elbows on the table and leant the chin on his hands. “Red ale. I’d like this one.” He pointed at the beer menu. “What do you want, Ginjou?”

“Uhm…” Ginjou was bad at acting, the hand on his chin and the pretended puzzled look were so fake that Ichigo couldn’t fall for it. “…I’m not sure. Do you have a suggestion, Ichigo?”

Ichigo was fast at pointing at one golden ale that many people ordered.

“This one is really good.”

Tsukishima interrupted him. “How do you know? Have you tried it?”

Ginjou shook his head. “Aren’t you too young to drink?”

“The clients are satisfied with it. I suggest you reading the descriptions and choose the one which inspires you the best.”

Ichigo learnt that sentence by heart. It was the best thing to say when clients got a bit too much into the details. He knew which one was right for those who loved a bitter beer or something sweeter. But probably Ginjou already knew what he wanted, he was just teasing him.

Ichigo felt trapped. It wasn’t like the incident with the old pervert, when he could have just wriggled away and had all the rights to refuse taking their order and even kick his butt. But now Ginjou wasn’t doing anything wrong and if Ichigo was to do something, Grimmjow would have kicked his ass and fired him. Ginjou knew he had the upper hand and was good at using his advantage. Ichigo couldn’t go away, not could push them away: he was in a no escape situation and only had to bear with it.

“They taught you to tell this?” Tsukishima.

“Let him go, Tsukishima. He can’t drink.” Ginjou.

“I can read the menu. Why having a waiter who doesn’t know how a beer taste?” Tsukishima.

Ichigo had the reply on the tip of his tongue and didn’t hold it. “We clearly have different tastes, so, even if I drank it, I couldn’t help you.”

He was harsher than he wanted but felt a bit better. A little bubble which exploded as soon as he noticed that his outburst had no real effect on the men.

Ginjou laughed. “This one, then. Oh, some French fries too.”

They were near the end. Almost there. Ichigo resisted. “One portion?”

Tsukishima nodded. “Yes, we like to share.” Then he smiled.

Ichigo avoided to look at them while he was writing down. He was about to take the menu, but Ginjou grabbed it on the other side. Ichigo felt the strength of the pull running through the nerves of his arm.

“Let it here. Maybe we’ll order something else later.”

“Okay.” Ichigo retreated to the counter. But, for how he was far from them, he had to go back. Like he had a chain tying him to them.

“You’re pale.”

Yylfordt barely spoke to him, mainly because Ichigo got along with Di Roy. So, Ichigo didn’t expect him to notice something like the color of his face.

“I’m fine.” He blurted out. “Do this order, please.”

Yylfordt took the piece of paper from his hand. “Don’t faint along the way.” He looked like he was only expecting him to trip. “You have a nice face, it’d be a shame to ruin it.”

“A… nice face?”

“No doubt you’re always with Di Roy. You’re both so dumb.” He sighed.

“Hey!”

For how Yylfordt wasn’t nice with him, Ichigo would have rather spent the rest of the evening receiving his insults instead of going back to Ginjou’s table for even one minute. But when the two beers were ready, he went there.

“Here your beers. And the receipt.”

It seemed like he interrupted a conversation, but he couldn’t (and didn’t want to) grasp what was the topic. Or who was. But probably he was being too self-centric and paranoid.

“Thank you very much.”

Ginjou and Tsukishima now acted as if they didn’t know him. Without saying anything else, they kept talking to each other. That surprised Ichigo, who was too slow to erase it from his face: both smirked but didn’t stop talking and still pretended nothing happened.

Ichigo felt like he had just lost a battle. When the French fries were ready, he put them on the table and didn’t say anything but a cold “Enjoy them.” He took the money and walked away.

One thing he wasn’t good at, was hiding things. Whenever something was wrong, either he tried to hide it or not, everyone noticed he wasn’t the usual Ichigo. When Di Roy passed near him holding a pile of empty plates, he stopped for a second.

“Hey, miss your girlfriend already?”

“…what? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“And the busty girl then?”

“Busty...? Ah, Inoue? She’s just my classmate.”

“Uh… you’re boring.”

“Are you really that disappointed?”

Ichigo felt like he was observed. But, when he glanced back at the table, Ginjou and Tsukishima seemed busy in a conversation and had no time to look around. Especially at him.

Grimmjow loved the silence of his pub after a hectic evening. He liked sitting as if he was one client and enjoying a drink without the continuous buzz of voices mingling with one another. Only him and the dim lights around him. And Shawlong, of course.

“Quite the evening tonight.”

“The other local in the street is going under restoration. That’s why.”

“Well, we may have gained new clients. Ichigo’s family and his friends looked satisfied.”

“Don’t count on that.”

“Of course not, but we can be satisfied for tonight.”

“As sure as death.” Grimmjow took a sip of hot tea. “Shawlong. The customers on table ten, the man with the leather jacket and his brat friend.”

“Uhm, I noticed them. What’s wrong?”

Grimmjow always kept an eye on the hall. He had a good visual memory and it came in handy when troublesome clients believed they could return after some months and pass unnoticed. In order to avoid any problem, he always kept his eyes opened. Shawlong wasn’t surprised he noticed something but wondered what alerted him.

“Nothing. Just, I don’t like them.”

“That’s all?” Shawlong drank his tea. “I guess the fact that Ichigo looked like he had just seen a phantom doesn’t matter.”

“Who cares? But if he has troubles with them, he better keep them out of here.” Grimmjow snorted and the surface of his drink wrinkled. “Really, we are in a pub and we are drinking tea?”

“It’s calming after a long day of work. And you keep losing at rock, paper, scissor, so I get to choose the drink.” Shawlong smiled. “By the way, it’s already the second week. It was a month, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was. You know it, don’t play dumb with me.”

“I wrote off his first Sunday, by the way.”

“Wow, so generous. Why don’t you go help people in need?”

Shawlong smirked. “He will resist.”

“He won’t.”

“You always lose your bets with me, Grimmjow.”

“Not this time.”

But somehow, Grimmjow felt like he had already lost the bet, even with two weeks left. And it pissed him off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit late. Unfortunately, it'll be difficult for me to keep the pace until July.  
> By the way, many things happened in this chapter. Someone give Ichigo a raise.


	5. Boys and girls, you are your own high school miracle!

Ichigo wasn’t the top of the class, there were his friends Ishida, Orihime, Tatsuki and Chad before him, but he wasn’t last either. At each test he always settled for a score a little above average, so that he wouldn’t fall behind and give the teachers some reasons to believe (more than they already did) the rumors saying he was a delinquent. He had no fault that stupid people had to resort to violence just because they couldn’t accept his natural hair color.

Despite the environment wasn’t friendly, Ichigo enjoyed school because he enjoyed the company of his friends. Even if Keigo was always noisy and annoying and ended up arguing with Mizuiro, or Tatsuki more often than not smacked her fist against his head, or he entered glare contests with his cousin Ishida. Chad was a gentle giant, so silent that when they were together, Ichigo ended up being the talkative one, while Orihime was forgetful but kind. It was nice being all together during lunch. The chemistry among them created a zone where Ichigo could enjoy being a student and his mind hardly wandered in places where he didn’t want to.

Chad always sat next to him. He was a catalyzer of tranquility, as if stress couldn’t get near him. “Did we disturb you yesterday, Ichigo?”

“No, don’t worry Chad.”

Ishida was sitting on his other side. He adjusted his glasses, gave Ichigo a judging look but didn’t say anything. Ichigo failed ignoring him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was thinking about your uniform at work.”

Orihime , who was talking with Tatsuki, popped out from behind Ishida. Her bright smile was taunted by a small hint of embarrassment that Ichigo had always failed to associate to a precise feeling.

“I think it suits you, Kurosaki-kun!”

Ichigo munched on the sandwich Yuzu prepared him for lunch and replied with his mouth filled with chicken and mayo. “It’s just a t-shirt.”

“Whoever designed it, lacks sense of aesthetic.” Ishida commented. “I would recommend adding some fringes to the aprons.”

“…are you insane?”

Orihime stuttered. “I-I think it would suit you!”

Tatsuki elbowed her. “You’re saying it only because Ichigo would wear it.” Her murmur inflamed Orihime’s face, who hid herself behind her huge bread roll.

“No way… I really think it’s cool…”

“Yes, yes, I was kidding.” Tatsuki patted her shoulder.

Ichigo didn’t mind Orihime’s reaction and turned back to Ishida.

“I need to be comfortable and recognized by the clients. It’s not a fashion parade.”

“Using black as a trademark, not the cleverest choice. I would go for a shocking pink.” The worst thing was that Ishida was serious both in his looks and talk. “Or, if black is the main choice, at least using a bright color for the design, like yellow.”

“Yeah, sure… if my boss wants to refresh the look, I’ll tell your name.”

“That would be the wisest choice.”

“…I was joking. I would never do that.”

“Wha–“ Ishida looked utterly betrayed. “But you didn’t hesitate to call me to adjust your sister’s stuffed toy you ripped!”

“That was totally different! And I asked you to make it like before!”

“I improved its looks!”

“Yuzu didn’t talk to me for a whole week!”

“I wasn’t the idiot who ripped her lion!”

Keigo was wondering if he should try stopping them. Mizuiro was having fun watching that improvised show, while Chad just let them be, because he believed this was their way to strengthen their bond (and he wanted to eat in peace). Orihime was concerned, while Tatsuki was giving them the same look she would have given to two children from kindergarten.

It was Ichigo’s mobile that put a stop to the quarrel. Everyone looked at him as the melody came out from the pocket of his trousers. Ichigo looked at the name on the screen and stood up.

“Ah, what does she want now…?”

Everybody realized who it was and Keigo said it aloud. “Kuchiki.”

“Yes. Kurosaki-kun always acts like that when it’s her.” Orihime’s smile trembled.

Ishida frowned. “Like that… how?”

She looked puzzled. “Well, like… that.” The look she gave him was filled with doubts. Why didn’t Ishida realize something so simple? “You know, he’s like woooooh and all grrrrr.” She faked a deep frown which didn’t resemble Ichigo at all. Ishida gave up.

“…nevermind.”

Keigo sighed. “And I thought Mizuiro was the womanizer of the group…” That gave to Orihime’s mood a severe blow and Tatsuki landed a fist on Keigo’s head.

Meanwhile, Ichigo opened the call while walking down the stairs.

“What do you want? I’m at school.”

Rukia snarled so loud that Ichigo had to keep the mobile far from his ear.

“You fool! I know it’s lunch time! I attended that school before you!” She took a deep breath and her voice turned serious. “By the way, I have something to tell you. I overheard Ukitake saying it, but…” Ichigo waited with his back pressed against the wall.

“Rukia, is something–“

“Let me finish! Idiot!” Again, Ichigo’s ear suffered from the loud voice. Rukia sighed. “Ginjou is back.”

“Ah… well, I knew it.”

Silence. Ichigo believed the connection failed, but he looked at the screen and saw that the call was still on.

“Rukia? Rukia, wha–“

A long shriek devastated his ear.

“Fool!!! You didn’t tell me!”

“Why are you screaming like that?!”

“You are screaming too! Ichigo!” The harsh way she pronounced his name, erased whatever annoyed feeling that was sprouting inside Ichigo’s chest. All the insults that were on his tongue disappeared. He shut up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Rukia sounded hurt. No. Her voice sounded normal, she was scolding him. But Ichigo believed he hurt her and filtered the interpretation of the distorted voice through the mobile.

“Nothing happened.” That was true. “And everything ended two years ago. They didn’t even care that much about me.” True again.

“They? There was Tsukishima too…” Not a question.

“Whatever, Rukia. I don’t care about him anymore.” Not that true, but Ichigo couldn’t admit it. “Whatever happened, it’s in the past.”

“As always, you are too…”

Rukia was clearly looking for a specific word and Ichigo came to help. “Stupid?”

“Good. And stupid too, of course.”

“Oh, thank you then, Rukia!” After their encounter, Ichigo tried with all his might to avoid thinking about Ginjou. But he was always there, lurking in a corner of his mind and whispering at his ears like a far-away voice which wasn’t getting closer and neither disappearing. He just remained there. “No. Thank you. I mean it. I should have told you.”

“I know, you idiot. And yes, you had. But… take your time. Just talk to me whenever you’ll feel to, I’ll be there.”

Luckily, Rukia’s voice was louder than anyone else that lingered inside Ichigo’s mind.

The only person who knew about Ginjou was Rukia and Ichigo hadn’t told her everything into details. He avoided informing her that Ginjou came back to Karakura only because he seriously thought everything ended -at least from Ginjou’s side- and all belonged to the past. He had the confirm when he met him again: a relief and a defeat at the same time. Ichigo felt stupid.

After more than one week, when nothing happened (except for Orihime who was paired with him in chemistry class and almost burnt her hair) Ichigo managed to put Ginjou’s memory in a tiny spot of his mind again, where he didn’t bother him. At work he stopped turning towards the door each time he heard it cracking, for the relief of Di Roy, who was afraid Ichigo suffered from work stress and was on the verge of giving in.

“Hey, Ichigo.” Di Roy bumped his arms with his shoulder. He was snickering, not always a good sign. “Few days to go.”

“Huh? Are you going somewhere next week?”

“…uhm, no?” Di Roy tilted his head. “This Sunday it’ll be a month!”

“A month?”

“A month that you’ll be working here. Or next Thursday, it depends if we count the trial. Are you really that dumb?”

“Hey, don’t call me dumb! I just don’t care since I’ll be here until the end of school.”

“Or until Grimmjow kicks you out.” Di Roy shook his head. “But resist this week and I’ll win my bet! After that, you can go wherever you want.”

“What bet?”

“With Yylfordt? Are you kidding me? You don’t even remember that!”

“Well, who cares. It concerns you, not me.”

“It concerns you as well!” Di Roy pointed his index at him. “Try not to fall into a sewer or do something stupid, got it?!”

“…why the sewer?”

A snicker reached them from behind. Yylfordt was clearly making fun of them. Ichigo expected Di Roy’s short temper to shove in, so that he would have picked a fight he couldn’t win. However, to Ichigo’s surprise, Di Roy ignored Yylfordt and got closer to him until their arms touched.

“You were harassed, weren’t you? Shawlong told me.” He muttered in such a low voice that Ichigo barely recognized it.

“Uh… sort of.” Ichigo felt unease thinking about the group of old men and his instinct made him turn around; there was no one and he felt a bit stupid. “That wasn’t much. It happened more than two weeks ago though.”

“So long!” Di Roy snorted, too near Ichigo, who jolted away. “Nobody ever tells me what happens here, I’m always left behind!” There it went all the secrecy he tried to show.

“I told you it wasn’t much.”

“Why didn’t you fight back?”

“You said I had to go to Grimmjow for any problem with clients.”

“Unless they harass or hit you. In that case, you can go all out.”

“Well, you forgot to add that!”

“Did I?” Di Roy seemed sincere. “Sometimes it happens, but not that often. Grimmjow has already kicked out half of the perverts hanging in Karakura.”

“Really?”

“Sort of.” Di Roy shrugged and passed him a broom, he took the one with flames one the handle. “It happened to me too. It was disgusting. I guess Kaien is right to worry about you.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m beautiful.” Ichigo frowned at that statement. “But you’re not that bad. You’re pretty.”

“Uh… thanks?” Ichigo didn’t know what to say, nobody had ever complimented him on his features, except his family. “I guess he has a wrong view of high school, that’s all. I’m the same as before.”

“You see yourself every day and don’t spot changes. Do you have an old photograph?”

“Err… I guess?”

“Let’s see.”

Di Roy tended his hand as if he was expecting Ichigo to take off a photograph from a pocket.

“I don’t have them with me. And even if I had, I wouldn’t show them to you.”

“Don’t act shy.”

“I’m not shy, I just don’t want you to see them!”

“Uff, so boring.”

Di Roy scratched the eyepatch and Ichigo wondered when it became normal seeing him with that thing to the point he forgot he somehow wanted to know what happened. Something temporary? Permanent? The previous week Ichigo heard Shawlong asking Di Roy if he took the medicine for his eye, but he couldn’t guess.

_ That _ was the difference between being acquaintances and friends: there was no need to know everything about one another.

Yylfordt snickered again but this time Di Roy couldn’t ignore him; his presence put an end to his cheerful behavior. Yylfordt was always a switch for Di Roy and Di Roy was a plaything for Yylford only whenever he was bored.

“Di Roy.” Ichigo took the chance when Grimmjow called Yylfordt to the storage room. “You can’t really stand Yylfordt, huh?”

“He’s conceited and always brags whenever I’m around.” Di Roy blurted out and Ichigo mentally confirmed. “The perfect Yylfordt, while I’m an insect for him. He’s even responsible for my eye but I’ve never received an apology.”

Di Roy wasn’t yelling, nor he looked dragged into it. He was just telling Ichigo the reality as it was. Ichigo felt, for the first time, he really was older than him. But when Di Roy glanced at him, he was again the cheerful rascal.

“These photographs?”

“No way.”

“Booooring!”

For once, Ichigo was relieved when he saw Grimmjow entering the pub followed by Shawlong: Di Roy immediately stopped bothering him and went back to his errand. For how he seemed to be a conceited guy with no respect but for himself, he had never gone against Grimmjow. Probably he was scared of him and Ichigo thought it was an easy task being afraid of Grimmjow, considering the eternal scowl on his face and the dangerous vibes he emitted. The other evening, Di Roy told him, Grimmjow grabbed one man who was as large as Edrad, threw him outside the pub and avoided one punch only to punch him back to sleep: KO with a single blow. Ichigo didn’t question Di Roy’s story.

Shawlong nodded at Grimmjow, they seemed to be involved in a serious conversation.

“She didn’t let you into the bed tonight too.”

“I’m spoiling her too much.” Grimmjow didn’t seem that pissed off. “I’ll fucking throw her on the street where she belongs if she does it again tonight. It’s my fucking house and I’m the only one working.”

“I sympathize for her though.” The shocked look Grimmjow gave him, didn’t affect Shawlong at all. “Almost every evening you go back home after spending some quality time with others.”

“Just a five minutes thing and she gives me the cold shoulder. I know what she does when I’m not around. I thought it was an open relationship.”

“Yesterday it wasn’t exactly a five minutes thing, Grimmjow.”

“She’s the one who exaggerates.”

That sounded like the confession of a betrayal. Di Roy noticed he was overhearing and tugged his t-shirt.

“Don’t mind it. It happens almost every evening.”

Ichigo looked back in shock. “A-almost every evening?”

Di Roy shrugged. “It’s not strange, considering it’s Grimmjow.”

“…ah.”

Ichigo wasn’t sure how to react, so he came back to work.

An hour after the opening, Kaien arrived with Shinji. Ichigo, who stopped looking at the door each time, noticed him only because he felt an arm around his neck.

“Yo. What’s that gloomy face? You should be happy to see your favorite uncle.”

“I’m not gloomy, I’m working. And you’re not my favorite uncle.”

“What does it mean that plain voice?” Kaien gave him a small smack on the head. “We’ll go take a sit on that table. Make sure to come and take our order.”

“I’ll send Di Roy.” Ichigo walked away from him with a tray full of beers.

“Hey, the client is always right, you know? Don’t ignore me!”

Shinji sighed. “If I could, I would ignore you too. Let’s get a table.” He dragged Kaien to the table.

On Thursdays, the pub wasn’t that crowded, so it became easy to indulge looking at the customers enjoying their orders, looking for someone who needed something else… and spotting Di Roy sat at his uncle’s table. Ichigo stopped half-way from the table he had just cleaned to the counter. It didn’t seem like anything worrisome, if only Di Roy wasn’t looking with interest at Kaien’s mobile.

Before realizing if that could be either a good or a bad idea, Ichigo towered behind them in silence. Shinji shrugged at him and looked away, his silent way to say “It has nothing to do with me, I couldn’t stop him”. Kaien noticed and looked behind him.

“Oh, Ichigo! I was showing Di Roy some photographs!”

Ichigo waited for Di Roy to do something. Grinning, snickering, mocking him. But he didn’t see his shocked expression coming and it was almost like receiving a punch out of nowhere while taking a peaceful stroll. Di Roy looked like he had just witnessed Grimmjow giving free beers wearing a skirt – Ichigo blamed his uncle for the mental association and didn’t want to picture it.

“W-what’s wrong?”

Di Roy took Kaien’s mobile and showed him. Ichigo recognized himself when he was ten years old, a big smile with no tooth and a blue ball into his hands.

“Here, you were cute.” He slid the finger against the screen and the photograph changed, Ichigo before his first day of middle school. He was taller, and his smile wasn’t as big as before, it seemed forced, but those were the only changes. “Still cute.” Another photograph. Ichigo before his first day of high school. He wasn’t smiling but snarling at someone who was out of camera and he probably didn’t even notice Kaien was taking the photograph. “A fucking thug gremlin stretched by the hand of god.”

“Gremlin?!”

Di Roy turned to Kaien. “He had such a cute and solar smile! What happened to all of that?! The dark tunnel of adolescence has sucked it away!”

Kaien nodded with energy. “That’s what I’ve been wondering. I hope adolescence won’t take Yuzu and Karin in the same way.”

“Well, at least he’s not anymore a gremlin.”

Ichigo shoved between them, ignoring Shinji, who was holding both his stomach and laughs.

“Don’t call me gremlin!”

“You were freaking ugly, Ichigo!” Di Roy freaked out. “Now look at you! What’s that? The high school miracle?! I thought it was an urban legend!”

“I wasn’t a gremlin!”

“Well, I have only one eye, but the one with a bad eyesight is you!”

Their voices started to catch too many attentions. However, before their discussion could become more heated, meaning more disturb for the clients, that ruckus arrived to Grimmjow’s ears.

“What’s going on?”

His eyes were asking why they weren’t freaking moving their asses to earn the money he was supposed to give them. But Di Roy was too excited to feel anything close to awe and he put the mobile in front of Grimmjow’s eyes before Ichigo could stop him.

“Grimmjow look at those three photographs!” Grimmjow didn’t look really interested, but Ichigo caught a small ride sprouting between his eyebrows. “I mean, puberty hit him like a truck!”

Shinji managed to calm down a bit, but the beer wasn’t enough to suffocate his snickers.

Grimmjow , unimpressed, gave Kaien his mobile back. “More than a truck, a whole shinkansen run over him and didn’t stop.”

“What the fu–“

“Clients.”

Grimmjow traced a quick invisible line with his thumb in front of his throat, as if he was mimicking a straight cut. The finger pointed at a table behind him, but both Ichigo and Di Roy caught the menace hidden in that threatening gesture. Both stood up. Di Roy left immediately, while Ichigo glared at his uncle.

“Why do you have to show those pictures around? And why do you have them in the first place?”

“Because you’re my beloved nephew.” Kaien smiled, but he wasn’t acting like an idiot as most of the times he did. He was serious and, like with his father, Ichigo never knew how to handle that side of him. He felt embarrassed, because he felt loved for real and wasn’t prepared. It was easier getting angry to their stupid behavior than finding a proper reply to a direct sign of love.

“…whatever…”

Grimmjow followed him with his eyes, then he took the seat where Di Roy was sitting until before.

Shinji leaned his chin on the palm of the right hand.

“First you scold them and then take a rest?”

“Mind your business.”

“That’s not the way to deal with clients, you know?”

“I don’t come and tell you how to trace criminals.”

They were talking to each other with extreme indifference. It seemed that they just liked to fill the silence.

Kaien grinned. “The perks of being the boss.”

Grimmjow glanced at Ichigo. Shawlong was talking to him, probably something about work, because he was listening with a serious look. Or probably not, as, when Shawlong was finished, the kid looked embarrassed and put on the usual fake-angered expression he had when he snarled.

“He’s a brat.”

Shinji nodded. “Everyone is at that age.”

“He’s more mature than he seems.” Kaien commented. “But he just has this attitude like…”

“A brat.” Grimmjow completed for him, but Kaien shook his head.

“No.” Grimmjow frowned when Kaien looked directly at him. “Like yours some years ago. When we first met.”

Shinji spat his beer in a laughter as he saw Grimmjow’s face turn into a grimace in between disgust and disbelief. Kaien blinked.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Aren’t you grateful I associated you to the precious blood of my blood?”

“No. Why don’t you go fuck yourself, Kaien? What kind of idea you had of me?”

Kaien looked sincerely puzzled. He tilted his head and reflected on that question with a serious approach. Shinji frowned.

“Hey, it isn’t such a difficult question.”

As he reached a conclusion, Kaien shrugged with such an innocence, that Grimmjow didn’t manage to reply immediately. “That of a man who wants to be cool but is actually a dork. I mean, like Ichigo.”

Shinji put down his beer. “Not that you changed much. You’re still a dork.”

Grimmjow glanced at both. “Are you done with your bullshit?” He wasn’t affected by their words.

Kaien didn’t drop his sincere look. “If you didn’t want to know, you shouldn’t have asked. Of course–” There it was his silly pout, sign that he was done with being serious. “–geez, you will never reach the great peaks of my precious nephew. I mean, my blood runs into him and Ichigo is such a, such a…”

“Brat.” Grimmjow stood up. “But at least it seems like he took from the other side of the family.” As he said it, he grasped with the corner of his eye Ichigo taking an order.

He wondered how the other side of the family was and how Ichigo took from it. Just for an instant. As he turned his eyes away, he didn’t care anymore.

The following Monday, Kaien invited Ichigo home for dinner. Even if _invited_ was what  Ichigo said to Karin when he called to tell he wasn’t going to eat home: Kaien stopped his car in front of the school probably breaking at least two laws -plus almost involving Ichigo’s knee, which was one centimeter away from the hospital- and definitely breaking one when he kidnapped his nephew.

That unexpected visit delighted Miyako, who worried about not having the ingredients to prepare Ichigo his favorite food. Despite Ichigo trying to say he would have eaten everything, she took the bag and went to the nearest supermarket. It was a behavior Ichigo associated to his mother: whenever someone visited without telling, if she knew their tastes, she would always grab her bag and go groceries because she wanted to and not because she felt compelled. Miyako was the same and Ichigo couldn’t oppose to her kind smile.

He remained alone with Kaien.

“Why did you kidnap me?”

“I didn’t kidnap you. It was an invitation.”

“Dragging people inside a car while they clearly don’t want to is usually called kidnapping.”

“I just wanted to spend some time with you.” Kaien threw a small bottle to him. Ichigo read the label: peach juice, the one he liked. “That’s what you always drink, right?”

“Why you have this?”

“I saw it and bought it.”

Ichigo could figure out why his uncle had a provision of the juice he liked -he saw other bottles right before he closed the fridge- and felt bad because of all the attentions he and Miyako provided him. Despite Ichigo clearly showing that he didn’t need it, each member of his family was caring to him to the point he felt guilty, because he thought he didn’t deserve it that much.

All those thoughts reflected on his face and Kaien flinched his forehead.

“Ow. Hey!” Ichigo met his serious look and shut up.

“You always have this grumpy adult-alike face…” He scratched his head but didn’t look away. He seemed ready for a severe lecture and, when he sat on a chair in front of him, Ichigo was sure of it. “…you’ll get rides on your beautiful features.”

“I thought you were being serious.”

Kaien ruffled his hair. Not as gently as he did with Yuzu and Karin, but not as vigorously as he used to do when he wanted to annoy him.

“Sometimes I forget you’re only sixteen–“

“I’m seventeen.”

“Woah! Already?!”

“Yes. You and dad out the number all around the house last year for my birthday.” Along with the memory, Ichigo recalled how numbers 1 and 7 of paper kept popping out from places they didn’t even know existed in their house.

Kaien laughed. “Just kidding. I know you’ll turn eighteen this summer.” His grin softened into a gentle smile. He looked at Ichigo like a proud father. “You’re mature for your age, but just enjoy this period of your life. If you take one step wrong, the world won’t fall.”

“What’s with this? Don’t worry, I’m good.”

Ichigo tried to cut off that conversation, but Kaien figured out his mood and changed direction. “Don’t be compelled to tell me how you feel. I just wanted to treat you. Let’s celebrate your part time job!” He raised his beer and Ichigo realized he had to open his juice yet. “And…” Kaien raised his bottle, drawing it closer to Ichigo’s juice. “…I’m always here. Whatever you’ll do.”

Ichigo looked away; Kaien snickered at the blush on his cheeks.

“I know… you say the same things as dad. Geez, there’s no need.” He opened the bottle and took one huge sip, gulping down the distress together with the juice.

“Wow, how tsundere.” Kaien teased him again. “You weren’t this embarrassed when I showed your photographs around.”

“Around?! What do you mean?”

The clack of the door opening made both turn their heads towards the entrance. Miyako was holding a heavy-looking bag, but she refused Kaien’s help with an elegant gesture of her hand.

“It means that he has showed your photographs to all his friends by now.” Miyako seemed sorry. “I heard your voice from the corridor.”

“What?!” Ichigo jumped on his feet. “And Karin and Yuzu–“

“Oh no.” Kaien shook a hand in front of his face. “I’m not showing their photographs. Their reactions wouldn’t be even close to yours. Where would be the fun, then?”

Miyako patted a hand on Ichigo’s shoulder. “He says like this, but he does it because he’s really proud of you.”

“Strange way of showing it…”

But Ichigo didn’t doubt his uncle’s feelings. He’s never doubted his family’s feelings towards him. Never. He just came to believe he was the one who didn’t deserve them. So, he never felt enthusiastic about those signs of love and, more or less, managed to create some responses towards his sisters, because he didn’t want to let them down. However, Ichigo truly sucked at faking.

During dinner, Miyako asked him about his work, then school. Then if he had a girlfriend. Orihime was just a classmate, Rukia a friend; school was okay, and work wasn’t that bad. Then, Kaien started talking about Grimmjow.

“I met him some years ago. He didn’t own the pub yet.” He explained.

Miyako nodded. “It was right after the incident, wasn’t it?”

Ichigo couldn’t stop himself. “What incident?”

“It happened during his previous job.” Kaien didn’t say anything more and Ichigo realized he didn’t want to talk about something so private without Grimmjow’s consent. Despite his attitude, Kaien was discreet. However, thanks to that, Ichigo confirmed he was in friendly terms with Grimmjow.

“But…” Ichigo tried to sound casual. “…he has a girlfriend, hasn’t he?”

“Not that I know. He had some partners, but I don’t know if he’s trying something serious now. Why you ask?”

Kaien looked at him. Not a glance during the conversation, with the eyes wandering from him to Miyako and the attention fickling from them to the food. He was _looking_ into his eyes and  Ichigo grabbed the glass of water; he wasn’t thirsty, but he had to do something and vent a sudden unease.

“Nothing. I just heard him saying something, so…”

“I wouldn’t be surprised at all.” Miyako shoved into their conversation. “He’s truly gorgeous.”

“Wha–? More than me?”

Kaien waited for a reply, but Miyako tilted her head and smiled at Ichigo. “I’ll go take the chocolate cake.” She totally ignored him and didn’t react to his husband’s whine. Ichigo saw once again the resemblance between his uncle and his dad, whose looks were so different.

When it was time for him to go back home, Ichigo felt like his stomach could explode from all the chocolate cake Miyako made him eat. Kaien offered to bring him home, but Ichigo firmly rejected.

“I need to walk, or I’ll roll away.”

“Not a surprise. You’ve eaten half cake.”

“I had no choice…” Whenever he was about to say he was fine, Miyako put another slice in front of him and Ichigo was afraid to disappoint her if he rejected it.

“You could have said no.” Kaien smacked his head. “You can reply properly, can’t you?”

“Stop smacking me!” Ichigo snarled back at a huge smile which floored him. “What?”

“That’s a nice throwback. You sure you don’t want a ride?”

Ichigo had already opened the door. “I am.” He tried to avoid his uncle’s hand, but Kaien trapped his neck in the crease of the elbow and rubbed the knuckles on the top of his head.

“That hurts!”

“Look at my stupid cute nephew who makes such silly faces.” Kaien let him go and Ichigo put enough distance to be able to dodge a possible second surprise attack. “I don’t mind if you don’t talk about your problems to me. But try to believe me when I say that I’ll be by your side no matter what.”

The atmosphere turned heavier. “…I believe you.”

Kaien was aware Ichigo probably wasn’t telling the whole truth. Or he was, but dealing with one own’s feelings was difficult, especially during adolescence.

“I’m glad you became a good friend of Rukia.” Kaien added. “She wasn’t that outgoing before.”

“She didn’t kick the others after entering their rooms?”

Ichigo didn’t manage to avoid the ruffle on his hair. “Go home. It’s getting late.”

“It’s not that late…”

“I know but go straight home.”

Ichigo was sure that Kaien stayed outside the door until he reached the elevator and probably watched over him from the window until he turned around the corner – or until Miyako convinced him that Ichigo could look after himself. Being a police detective wasn’t a stress-free job; once Isshin commented that Kaien turned so hyper-protective towards his family because he saw too many things during work and he only wanted his family to be safe. “Like you.” He added smiling at Ichigo. That was one of the few times Isshin made Ichigo feel a warm embarrassment, instead of a hopeless sensation of desolation due to his constant silly attitude.

Halfway home, Ichigo passed near a 24h supermarket and gave it a disinterested glance. He was about to walk past it, when his eyes fell on one of the leaflets attached to the window: Karin’s favorite sweet snacks were on sale. That was enough for Ichigo to decide to enter. By the time he found the shelf with the snacks, he was holding the candies Yuzu liked and a pack of beers for his father.

He grabbed the sweets and headed towards the register when a familiar voice from behind froze him on the spot.

“You should go for juices instead of beers.”

Ginjou was there, with his half smirk and his sharp eyes flashing towards him. The shock slowed Ichigo’s reflexes and all he saw at first was a mockful smile. Then Ginjou stumbled and Ichigo noticed how his face was pale; he leaned against the shelf and Ichigo recognized some first aid tools among the food in his basket. Ginjou managed to find again some balance without any support and a hem of his jacket slid aside.

Ichigo couldn’t tell if he did it on purpose -probably yes- but Ginjou wasn’t fast enough at hiding the red stain on his t-shirt. Blood.

“Oh this. Occupational hazard. Going to the hospital now would be a hassle.” Ginjou’s attempt at laughing ended in a grunt of pain.

Ichigo managed to shake himself from the state of contemplation he fell into and diverted his eyes from him.

“Good luck then.”

“Would you help me?”

Ichigo didn’t stop. “Ask Tsukishima.”

“Unfortunately, he won’t be back for a while.”

Ginjou’s voice cracked because of the pain. That was the only reason Ichigo stopped in the middle of the aisle and turned around again. The shadows around Ginjou’s eyes were deep and looked even darker against the face drained of blood; his left hand was pressing the jacket against the injury, to hide it and stop up the blood. It was impossible he was faking it.

Ichigo clenched his fingers around the handle of the basket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A petition for Ishida to become the designer of the uniforms.


	6. Lend the shoulder, not the whole arm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drink challenge (at the end, do not repeat it at home).

Ginjou’s apartment didn’t change at all. Ichigo focused on the little details that were carved in his memory, like the showy wooden bear at the center of the table and the painting over the sofa, which was a nonsense mingle of colors similar to the drawings he did during kindergarten. He tried to maintain his concentration on those useless details to avoid thinking about how Rukia was right: he was too good and too stupid, a deadly combo. Deadly for him.

The dirty t-shirt and the jacket were abandoned near the sofa, where Ginjou sat in a grimace of pain. He leaned his back against the comfortable backseat and exhaled a deep breath with his eyes closed. Ichigo had both hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“I don’t know how to help you.”

“Didn’t you observe your father?” Ginjou smiled, yet his expression was weak. “I know what to do, but I need assistance.”

“…okay.”

Someone left a cut on him. It started from his right hip and ended under the chest, not so deep to make him unable to move, but deep enough to make him bleed to the weakening. Ichigo thought his current state wasn’t all because of the injury, and the purple bruises on his arms and back were an evident proof.

Ichigo started cleaning the wound and realized the blood was less than it seemed from the white t-shirt. The water inside the basin turned pinkish after the first time he wrung the gauze out and at each rinse its color darkened. Ichigo avoided looking directly at Ginjou, he was careful not to touch the wound directly, cleaning the skin around it and discovering smaller scratches; some under the chest, others on the arms, difficult to detect because of the black bruises. He glanced at the wide chest and the flat stomach, using the rhythm of his breath to understand if he was hurting him. As the abdomen twitched, Ichigo stopped, but Ginjou gulped down “Go on.” and faintly released his breath. Ichigo decided to look at him: he was paler.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches right now, but–“

“I’ll see a true doctor tomorrow. I don’t think they cut through the muscle. Tonight, you’ll be enough.”

At those words, Ichigo squeezed the gauge into his hand. “You should have gone tonight.” He sounded harsh as if he was scolding him. Ginjou smiled.

“Sometimes my work doesn’t just allow me to make the easiest choice.”

“Yes, yes…”

Ginjou huffed. “You listened with more interest back then.”

“You were more interesting back then.”

Ichigo covered the cut on the hip with a wet bandage and medical tape; he tried his best to put the hems as close as he could. However, when he observed his results, he wasn’t satisfied. Ginjou looked down at him.

“Something’s wrong?”

Ichigo shook his head, looked at the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and then at the small cuts. “It’ll burn.”

“I’m used to it. I’ll take some antiseptic lat–ouch!”

Ginjou didn’t expect Ichigo to pour the liquid all of a sudden and couldn’t stop a moan of pain. He tilted back his head with a sigh.

“What’s wrong, Ginjou?”

He smiled. “I was involved in a fight and luckily escaped with bruises and a shallow cut after a sleepless night. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“I guess this won’t be the last time.”

“Probably not.”

When Ichigo was done, Ginjou looked down at the white rectangle of bandage applied over his injury: an artificial bulge put there as a patch which lured the sight. “Not bad.” He stood up more swiftly than he should have, and he paid for it, as he had to lean against the wall to reach the toilet.

Ichigo was left alone in the room. The sofa, the table and the chairs, the kitchen. He looked around and confirmed once again that everything remained as before. Ichigo wondered if he just had to leave, since Ginjou seemed to be back in shape enough to walk around on his own. He walked towards the entrance and was about to put on his shoes, when he realized that he was submerged in silence and the only noise was the low buzz of one of the light bulbs in the kitchen. He was one step from leaving the house. But then came back.

“Ginjou?” He knocked at the door of the bathroom. “Are you okay?” No response. “Ginjou!” Ichigo knocked twice on the door and the third time his knuckles smashed against the air.

Ginjou opened the door. “Hey, injections take some time. Were you worried?”

“You have a cut.” Ichigo didn’t want to sound so defensive. “I’m leaving.”

He went back to the entrance, waiting for Ginjou trying to take time, talk to him to lure him back into the house. However, it didn’t happen. Ichigo put on his shoes and crouched down to tie the laces in complete silence. When he stood up, his shoulder bumped into something. He turned around and Ginjou was close. Too close. Ichigo took a step back.

“You grew taller during these two years.”

“Yes. It happens when you’re a childish teenager. You grow up.”

Ginjou grinned. “Oh, Tsukishima called you like that, didn’t he?” He leaned his shoulder against the wall. He wanted to look relaxed, but he only seemed tired.

“Go to bed.” Ichigo snarled back. “Old men shouldn’t go around with an injury.”

“It’s not like I’m older than your father.” Ginjou moved from the wall; his face twisted into a painful grimace and he pressed his right hand against the bandage. “Where’s your bag?”

Ichigo realized he only had his school bag. “In the living room.” He took off his shoes with a mechanic movement, but he was a bit faster than usual. As he passed near Ginjou, he felt his hand grabbing his shoulder.

“Mind lending your shoulder to an old man?”

They were close again. And Ichigo thought that he may have grown up in two years, going from barely reaching Ginjou’s chin to sharing a decent eye contact. But he felt the age difference between them and he realized he really was only a brat, despite he believed he was more mature than most of his schoolmates.

Those thought lasted only for a second -enough for him to lower his eyes and Ginjou to notice- and disappeared. The second Ginjou put his arm around his shoulders, Ichigo was overwhelmed by his weight pressing him down. He bended his knees, walked slowly and, as they reached the living room, he glanced at the bedroom door. Maybe Ginjou noticed it, maybe not, but Ichigo thought the first was right, because he suddenly said “Well, I should go to bed.”

“Yes, you should.” Ginjou was heavy. “You’re heavy.”

“Don’t tell me you can’t bring me to my bedroom?”

Of course he could, his pride screamed, suffocating the reason which was trying to point out that the bag with the purchases was right next the sofa. Ichigo brought him to his bedroom.

Ginjou sat on the bed with a satisfied sigh. Ichigo looked around and confirmed that nothing changed at all: same bed, same mirror, same old picture of a mountain landscape. He looked back at Ginjou. “I think you’re alright now, I’m going.”

“Did you have sex with him?”

Ichigo froze. Ginjou was almost cheerful as he spoke and, with a hint of horror, Ichigo thought he was too similar to his father when he asked out of the blue about some imaginary girlfriend.

“…what?”

“The man you work for. The grumpy one who looks like could fuck you all night long.”

Ichigo was sure his face was turning pale because his heart needed all the blood inside him to beat that fast. It almost hurt. He thought about Grimmjow, tied Ginjou’s allusion and all he obtained was the image of his boss complaining about his open relationship. “He has a girlfriend already!” Another subtle thought tried to sneak in, but his mind was cracking down.

“You didn’t say no.” Ginjou insisted. “You always aim for the older ones, huh?”

“I don’t like him!” Ichigo managed to take the reins of his brain and found a proper reply. “And it’s not your business.”

“Oh… then the one with the eyepatch? He’s kinda cute, if you don’t mind the brac–”

Ichigo ignored him. “I’m leaving.” This time, for real. But Ginjou still talked to his back and his words hit him before he could leave the bedroom.

“Did you tell your family you’ll never bring a girlfriend home?”

Ichigo hesitated too much and uncovered himself even before he replied with a harsh. “I did!” He grabbed his bag and marched out from Ginjou’s flat. He maintained the same pace, quick and rigid, until he reached home. His legs hurt, and he didn’t know what face he had when Yuzu opened the door. All the bruises from her “fall” were gone, but the way her happy smile faded when she looked at him hurt even more than seeing her beaten from someone else. He put on a fake smile.

“Ichigo, what happened?”

“Sorry Yuzu, I’m late.” He pushed the plastic bag into her arms. “I dropped by and bought some things. I’ll go to sleep now, night.”

Ichigo walked past her and almost run to his bedroom. The click of the closing door made him feel a bit safer, inside that dark space enlightened by the dim rays of the streetlamp reaching from the window. He didn’t turn on the lights and threw himself on the bed, his face sunk on the pillow. If Yuzu were to know he was on bed without taking off his uniform -again-, she would have scolded him. But for now, he only managed to make her worry. Good job, big brother, Ichigo said to himself while turning around to look outside the window. Even if he only wanted to sleep, he stood up and get changed into his pajama.

It was while he was putting on the trousers that an evil whisper murmured into his head. _You didn’t think about his girlfriend, but about his open relationship._ That was true. And Ichigo’s mind tricked him into a circle of thoughts which went to and fro from Ginjou to Grimmjow, passing through his family.

He fell asleep of exhaustion and woke up the following morning even more exhausted.

Hirako Shinji had exceptional observation skills and had been Kaien’s partner for almost ten years. He was the only one who noticed that something wasn’t right with him – with the probable exception of his wife, but Shinki was Kaien’s friend, not Miyako’s, so he never asked her. It wasn’t a constant thing; sometimes, it popped out, like a tormenting thought that was always in ambush, ready to jump at Kaien.

That was one of those days. Shinji didn’t know if Kaien noticed that him brining his favorite coffee always coincided with Kaien having one of _his moments_ – as Shinji referred to them. If he did, he didn’t show it, as that morning too  Kaien frowned and raised his head from the papers covering his desk. Shinji smashed the tall cup on the paper Kaien was about to sign.

“Enjoy.”

Their desks were one in front of the other and they were equally messy. Shinji sat down and Kaien was already drinking the coffee. His eyes darted to the clock more often than usual.

“Waiting for someone?”

“Huh?”

“I said, waiting for someone?”

Kaien nodded. “Ginjou. He’s investigating on this case I had.”

“What?”

“His investigation is related to one of the witnesses.”

“Looking if he has an alibi when he was supposed to cheat on his wife?”

“No. This person may have been involved in something.” Kaien shrugged at Shinji’s puzzled look. “He must keep it secret. You know…”

“Yes, I know.”

Ginjou arrived half an hour later. Shinji saw him only few time and that was the first one since when he came back in Karakura, but felt something odd, as if he was ill. He pretended to check a report but was listening to whatever was happening at Kaien’s desk.

Ginjou sat down. “Good morning.”

Kaien sounded slightly pissed off. “You’re late.”

Ginjou chuckled “I had some troubles yesterday.” Shinji raised his eyes.

“You look a bit pale.”

“Nothing serious, I went to the doctor, that’s why I’m late. By the way, yesterday evening I run into your nephew. He grew up.”

“He surely did.” Kaien sounded like Ginjou had just said an obvious thing. “Then, what do you need?”

Shinji tried to grasp anything from the brief conversation between them. But Ginjou was capable at saying everything without telling anything useful. When he had a copy of the report into his hands, he suddenly changed topic.

“I also saw him at a pub. Ichigo.”

Kaien shrugged. “He’s got a part-time job. I guess he wants to have some money of his own.”

“That surprised me, he’s a bit young.”

“Well… he’ll get by.”

Kaien obviously didn’t want to talk about Ichigo and not with Ginjou. Shinji slammed on purpose the folder on his desk and got the attention from both.

“If you’re done with your chat, let’s go back to our case, Kaien.”

Ginjou stood up. “I won’t take more of your time. Thanks for the help, Shiba.” He folded the paper and hid it inside his jacket. Shinji caught the deep frown which twisted his face, only for a moment, but pretended he didn’t.

When Ginjou was gone, Shinji didn’t wait. “Try not to get involved with him more than necessary. An injured detective is never good news.”

“I know.”

“Talking about Ichigo… last time Ginjou was here, I noticed he buzzed around him.”

“I guess he was interested into his job. He used to ask me about ours too.” Kaien sighed. “Old good times, when Ichigo still trusted me…”

“Actually, he used to ask me.” Shinji cared to point out. “Aren’t you a bit too clingy?”

“You think so?”

“I do. Just let the damn kid go.”

Kaien gave an uninterested look at the screen of the computer. “I know. I only want him to know he can trust me.”

“This is a rebellious age. Get over it.”

“It’s not that.” Usually Kaien would have reacted in a silly way, making Shinji roll his eyes; instead, he seemed troubled to the point he couldn’t to joke. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re too close to the monitor.”

“You sound like Miyako.” Kaien pouted, but immediately became serious again. “I overheard Ichigo talking with Rukia. It happened by chance.” He added when Shinji judged him with a pitiful look. “I can’t tell you what it was about, it’s his secret, but… it’s something serious for him and he doesn’t want to tell us. He’s afraid his whole family would hate him if we find out. But he also said he wanted to wait for the right moment… so he’ll probably tell us, but…”

“Did he break the law?”

“What? No!”

“Then it’s something that can be faced without harsh consequences.” Shinji huffed. “I don’t know what _this_ thing is, but  Ichigo is like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“When there’s some kind of trouble, he’d rather face the problem himself without seeking for help. He doesn’t want to be a burden when he is concerned but is always on first line to help the others.”

Kaien didn’t seem to feel any better. He looked at the empty glass of coffee. “This is not a problem… not really. I don’t know how to say it.”

“Then don’t say it! Just talk to him!” Shinji crossed his arms. “Geez, only troubles from your family.”

“Ichigo isn’t troublesome.”

“And who kicks his schoolmates?”

“It was a group against him, self-defense! And not only from his school.”

“And it happened more than once since middle school.”

“He has to defend himself somehow.”

“Don’t look that proud. Remember what’s your job.”

Shinji glanced at the clock, then at the folder on his desk. He threw it at Kaien, who barely caught it. “Let’s go back to work.”

“Sure…”

“I don’t know what kind of troubles Ichigo got himself into, but if you notice he turns more miserable than a teenager should be, then that’ll be the damn right time to spit it out. I don’t think he’s aware he can truly count on his family.” Shinji grinned. “But that’s the downside of every teenager, isn’t it?”

Kaien smiled. “It is.”

Ichigo didn’t tell Rukia about his casual meeting with Ginjou. He didn’t feel like talking about it and he didn’t even want to think about it, because whenever he did, he pictured the worst outcome – Ginjou spitting out everything. That was a remote eventuality, but Ichigo’s irrational side believed it could happen. So, he avoided the thinking.

Of course, having both school and a part-time job occupied great part of his daily hours and it was easier erasing those sinister thoughts when he was busy memorizing a long list of formulas or dealing with demanding clients or–

“What did you say, whore?”

–fighting against thugs. That hadn’t been happening for a while and the last place Ichigo thought he could have found some material for a brawl was the pub. He thought Di Roy exaggerated when he stated that Grimmjow beat down all the thugs in the neighborhood who messed into the pub, but, apart from some tipsy clients, nothing particularly violent occurred since when Ichigo started working there. And now he was witnessing a bunch of idiots surrounding a woman.

She was beautiful, surely a foreigner. Green long hair and dressed in black leather trousers and jacket which showed off her slim body and generous breast. Ichigo took a step forward to help her and in the same moment one of the men put a hand on her shoulder.

Everything happened fast. All Ichigo saw was the man flipping in air and falling on the tar. The revenge of his two friends failed in the same way and, from showing off an appeal they didn’t have, they ended up piling one on the other, passed out on the street. The woman gave Ichigo a quick glance and deemed him worth of no interest, because she wiped her left shoulder and headed straight to the pub without saying a word.

As she opened the door, a rain of colorful confetti sprinkled on her. Blue, yellow, red, pink, green, orange. Every color stood against her clothes and many confetti stuck to her thick hair.

Ichigo heard a yell “You’re not Ichigo!” then Di Roy came out from the pub and spotted Ichigo, who was only few meters from him. He raised his arms at the sky. “You ruined the surprise!”

“What surprise?”

“The surprise for you!”

“How could I ruin a surprise for me?!”

Di Roy took from the ground some of the confetti and marched towards him. With a theatrical gesture, he threw them in the air, but were so few in number that didn’t even manage to reach Ichigo and landed back where they had fallen before.

“…well, fuck it.” Di Roy snarled. “Congratulation on your month, rookie.”

“Oh… wasn’t it last Sunday?”

“Last Sunday I forgot the confetti at home, okay?!”

They went into the pub. The woman left a trail of confetti from the entrance. Ichigo had many things to ask, but the first one was “Di Roy, have you thought about Grimmjow’s reaction to this when you decided to use confetti?”

He scratched his head. “…I admit I got carried away.”

Ichigo noticed the woman was looking at him. She had brown eyes, her appearance was a bit childish, but her look was severe. Moreover, she was taller than him and Ichigo didn’t know if it was only because of the heel boots.

“You’re the new boy Grimmjow talks about?”

“Uhm… yes?”

“I thought you were different, from what he told me.” She crossed her arms. “Where is he?”

Di Roy shrugged. “He wasn’t here when I arrived.”

“It doesn’t matter, I dropped by because I had something to do nearby. I’ll come back tonight. See you later.”

As she arrived, she left. Ichigo was stunned.

Di Roy smirked. “Beautiful, isn’t she? But she’s out of league.” He elbowed Ichigo. “Do you think it’s a cup D or E?”

“I don’t care.” Ichigo frowned. “By the way, she knocked out three men in no time out there.”

“Ah, those three? They’ll wake up, sooner or later.” Di Roy wasn’t impressed. Ichigo thought, he knew she could take care of herself. “Go take a broom and wipe the floor.”

“What? Hey, you threw the confetti!” His complaints fell into the void, Di Roy pretended he didn’t hear him. “I hope it’s worth your bet with Yylfordt.”

“Actually, when I told him, he said he didn’t agree to anything. But could you imagine his humiliation because he was wrong?”

“No.”

“Hey, what’s with the sudden reply?”

“By the way, who was she?”

“Neliel.”

“I didn’t mean the name–“

The opening door interrupted him. Grimmjow arrived together with Shawlong and his eyes immediately fell on the confetti. Ichigo noticed his frown and pointed the index at Di Roy.

“He did this and even got it wrong.”

“It’s not my fault you arrived after Nel! I saw you from the window!” Di Roy pouted. “Ah, by the way, she said she’ll be here tonight.”

Grimmjow massaged his neck. “What a pain in the ass. I told her not to come.”

“She cares about you, despite what she says.” Shawlong pointed out. “But let’s change topic. I see that Di Roy decided to celebrate your first month, Ichigo.” He patted his right hand on Ichigo’s shoulder. “Good job, I’m fifteen thousand yen richer. I’ll treat you with some tea later.”

“…you always treat me with some tea. What’s different now?”

Shawlong didn’t reply. “Now, take the broom and make all these confetti disappear.”

“But it was Di Roy–“

Grimmjow cut him. “You have fifteen minutes to clean this mess.” He tried to sound as harsh as usual, but he couldn’t hide he was pissed off; for the lost bet or because of that Neliel, Ichigo couldn’t tell.

“He’s angry, isn’t he?” Ichigo asked Shawlong as soon as Grimmjow left for the store room. Di Roy went with him because he wanted to brag with Yylfordt, who was checking the new arrivals.

“No. He just has this particular relationship with Nel. More like siblings than anything else.” _Open relationship_ exploded inside  Ichigo’s mind and he shook his head. “You better move and clean the floor.”

“Is the vacuum cleaner still under repair?”

“Yes.”

“…dammit.”

As she stated, Neliel came back that evening, around nine, with three more people. A woman, who had a different beauty but was still gorgeous, blonde with dark skin and two men, one who was probably two meters tall and so slender that he looked like he could break in two halves in any moment and one who looked the most normal in the bunch, with blonde hair and a calm mood following around.

Ichigo was the closest and Neliel approached him. She was serious, almost uninterested; on the contrary, the tall man (with incredibly thin-looking black hair) was grinning at him and Ichigo preferred he wasn’t, as he looked sneaky.

“Hi. A table for four, thank you.”

“Sure. Follow me.”

He was about to bring them to one of Di Roy’s tables, when Neliel sat in a random one. Ichigo noticed it was one of his tables.

“Is it okay here? I like it.”

“Uhm, yes.”

The other woman sighed. “Neliel, don’t act on your own.”

“I asked first.”

“No.” The tall man pointed out. “You sat down first. But whatever.” He sat down too. “I’m starving.”

Ichigo went taking the menus and clearly heard the voice of the tall man. “Is that the new brat? I thought he was different.” He ignored the comment and approached Shawlong. “There are… errr… Grimmjow’s friends I guess.”

“I saw them.”

“Should we tell him?”

“He’ll see them, don’t worry.”

And Grimmjow saw them, when he came back in the hall. Ichigo had just brought them their order and Neliel was the first one to notice. She raised her head, looked at Grimmjow and he looked back at her.

“Grimmjow.” She sounded a bit cold. “I came today, and you weren’t here.”

“Well, I work.”

“Don’t make it sound like I don’t work.”

The tall man had such long legs that he had to put the chair further from the table to cross his legs. He chuckled. “Neliel-mother-hen is worried about you. I just wanted to eat.” Then he pointed at Ichigo. “Is he the new kid with bleached hair?”

The blonde woman scolded him with the sole sound of her voice. “Nnoitra.”

“What? Grimmjow said it.”

That Nnoitra was trying to upset him. However, Ichigo was used to people referring to his hair like that, he ended up in fights because of his hair. He shrugged.

“Still better than having an electrocuted smurf on the head.” Ichigo realized what he said only after the damage was done. Instead of being scared, as everyone at the table expected, he challenged Grimmjow with a glare. “I’m not the only one with strange hai–argh!”

Grimmjow clasped his neck in the crease of the elbow. Ichigo felt the knuckles rubbing on the top of his head, painfully trying to peel his skin.

“Look at this brat who’s learning how to throwback decently.” Grimmjow let him go; Ichigo’s head was pulsating. “Go back to work.” He didn’t sound angered, as Ichigo expected, but was almost pleased.

Neliel observed Grimmjow. “Where did you get this one?”

“He needed a job and didn’t surrender.”

“I’d pay him only because he’s put up with you until now. Right, Tesla?” The blonde man slightly nodded towards Nnoitra, but he didn’t feel involved in the conversation.

“Sure enough I pay him for that, Nnoitra. Everyone can walk around bringing food to clients, even if that client is you.” Grimmjow snorted. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“We’re clients, you should treat us with more respect.” The blonde woman pointed out.

“Excuse me. May I ask what the fuck are you doing here?”

Tier ignored him. “Does your shoulder hurt?”

“It doesn’t.”

“I want to drink.” Nnoitra said. “Who the fuck cares about your shoulder, it’s gone. We want to bother you.”

“And make the usual challenge, of course.” Neliel added.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “I’ll come and disturb your during your job too, assholes.”

It was a strange group, Ichigo thought. From time to time, he felt observed and once caught Neliel looking at him; she smiled and waved her hand. He didn’t know what he did to make her attitude change. Grimmjow sat with them around half past ten, when most of the clients were already gone and the ones who arrived preferred sitting at the counter.

“Shawlong.” Ichigo was taking a break, getting the chance of the relaxed mood floating in the whole pub, nurtured by the clients who were chatting without thinking about ordering something else. “I was wondering… that Neliel, she’s Grimmjow’s friend?”

“Do you like her?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know her.”

“I meant as in the storm of teenage hormones.”

“No!” Ichigo was shocked, but his cheeks turned red.

“I thought you were about to ask if she was Grimmjow’s girlfriend. Di Roy did, when we first met her.”

“It’s just that…” He didn’t know what to say. “Today she knocked off three men.”

“Nothing new, then.”

“Ah…”

Grimmjow and Nnoitra kept teasing each other and Neliel sometimes scolded them. However, Grimmjow, despite his frown, seemed at ease: he released the restraints due to his position and looked like a client, not the one who owned the pub. It reminded Ichigo when Grimmjow talked with Kaien and Shinji; he didn’t turn into a different person, he just showed another side of his behavior. He wasn’t only his grumpy boss who liked to tease and snarl orders at him. It was strange, almost like knowing better a teacher, associating them to a person and not to a position anymore. With Di Roy and Shawlong and the others was different, probably because they acted friendlier (well, not Yylfordt) than Grimmjow, who somehow always kept his distance.

Ichigo was looking at the table and Grimmjow caught him as he turned around. He made a gesture with his hand and Shawlong nodded.

“Come, Ichigo. Help me bring some drinks.”

They started with beers. Grimmjow, Neliel and Nnoitra were sitting around the table, while Tier and the blonde man sat aside.

“Neliel, I won’t give you a piggyback ride.”

“Don’t worry Tier, I won’t fall.”

Tier’s look told another story, but she didn’t say anything else to her and turned to the young man. “Aren’t you worried, Tesla?”

Tesla shrugged. “If Nnoitra wants to do it… he… wouldn’t listen to me.” She patted his shoulder.

Ichigo looked at the three huge blonde ales on the table. He had a hunch of what was going to happen and wasn’t sure it was a good idea not doing anything. He relied on Shawlong.

“Are you sure that–“

“Yes, don’t worry.”

Grimmjow put a 1000-yen banknote at the center of the table and the other two did the same.

“W-what’s this?”

Shawlong grabbed his shoulder. “Please, three pale ales. Bring them here as soon as possible.”

Ichigo obeyed and when he came back, they were gulping down the last sips of beer. It looked like they hadn’t been drinking anything for days. Neliel was the first, she smashed the empty glass on the table and chuckled.

“I won the first round!”

Nnoitra was pissed off, but Ichigo couldn’t tell if Grimmjow was bothered by the outcome or not.

“Just wait, Nel.” He said. “Enjoy your meager victory.”

A little crowd of curious people surrounded the table. Ichigo caught some money running from hand to hand and realized they were betting on that challenge. He left the red ales and remained to watch the outcome. He couldn’t believe that people who managed to drink that much beer so quickly existed.

That round’s winner was Nnoitra. He guffawed. “Grimmjow, you rusted.”

Grimmjow was almost calm. He kept smiling and he reminded Ichigo of an animal, a cat who was making the mouse believe they could escape before jumping at them. Neliel and Nnoitra noticed too, because the happiness for their victories lasted until the third round. Red ales. But, once again, it was Neliel the winner, who overcame Nnoitra for a matter of instants and they turned confident again.

The buzzing of the crowd grew. Someone almost got angry at Grimmjow, accusing him of slacking off.

“Today is not his day for bets.” Ichigo’s comment reached Grimmjow’s ears. He looked directly at him.

“You think so, huh?” Dark ale. Grimmjow yawned and grabbed his glass. “I guess it’s time for the comeback.”

Nnoitra laughed. “What comeback?”

Tesla gave once again the signal.

The beer flowed away from the glass so fast, it seemed Grimmjow was pouring it directly inside his mouth without gulping. He put the glass down with a satisfied sigh and when took the money, the other two hadn’t finished yet.

“Let’s pass to resistance.”

Tier frowned at Grimmjow’s words. “Neliel, no ride.” She reminded.

“…what’s resistance?”

Ichigo was surprised when it was Tier who replied to him. “Drinking as much as possible. The last standing is the winner.”

“…should we call an ambulance?”

She shrugged and Ichigo felt done with the adults.

Even if it didn’t last long. The first one to fall was Nnoitra, despite Neliel was the one with red cheeks and giggles; he put the head on the table after the third turn, fell asleep and didn’t wake up even when Ichigo, while bringing an order to a table, accidentally broke a glass. Grimmjow drunk among huge yawns as if he was bored; Neliel kept his pace until she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead on the crossed arms.

“Just five minutes.” She softly declared before surrendering.

Grimmjow won and stood among the claps of the clients without wavering. Tesla managed to wake Nnoitra up, but it seemed like he wasn’t truly connected to reality. Tier, despite what she said, carried Neliel on her back. As the main characters of the challenge left, the crowd too scattered and only few remained.

“Ichigo.” Shawlong muttered. “Follow Grimmjow upstairs. Just make sure he goes up and doesn’t roll down.”

“Why me?”

“You look pretty strong and stubborn.”

That remark didn’t sound like a good omen. Ichigo reached Grimmjow, who was slowly climbing the stairs, the right hand leaning against the wall. He raised one leg and it remained midair, as if he was thinking about going up or down. Ichigo went next to him.

“Everything alright?”

“I’ve drunk four beers and probably more than half bottle of liquor.” He sounded aware for being someone who was filled with alcohol to the brim. “I’m perfectly fine.” He snarled before climbing again. Probably, the idea of having someone watching him, ignited his pride and he couldn’t mess up.

Ichigo sighed and followed him. “I’m helping you.” He ignored the objection and made him put his left arm around his shoulders.

“Leave me alone, kid.”

“I won’t.”

Grimmjow glared at him and Ichigo glared back. The lights on the stairs were fainter than the ones in the hall and they couldn’t clearly see each other – and Grimmjow had the handicap of the alcohol running into his veins and blurring both his eyesight and reasoning.

“You’re a pain in the ass. I’ve lost fifteen thousand yen because of you.”

“You should make bets then.”

“Well, I’ve won tonight. I covered it.”

Ichigo didn’t follow all the second part of the challenge, but, at every turn they had to drink two shots and at each turn the alcohol content raised. Each turn was worth an amount of yen Ichigo didn’t grasp. Maybe 5000.

“Don’t fall.” Grimmjow said when they were almost at the top.

“I’m not the one who’s likely to fall.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“I haven’t drunk the whole pub.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“You exaggerated.”

“Don’t act like a parent, Shawlong is enough for that.”

Grimmjow wasn’t that heavy; he wasn’t leaning his whole weight on him, only using him as a last resort if he were to fall.

He didn’t and reached the upper floor safe and sound.

There were four doors, they entered in the first one on the left: a small room with a shelf, a sofa and a television. Grimmjow abandoned himself on the sofa with a satisfied sigh ending with a hint of pain. He touched his left shoulder. Ichigo overheard what Tier asked him and recalled that Grimmjow had troubles with his arm.

“Now go home. You have school tomorrow.” That care from Grimmjow was unexpected. “Making up for bad marks won’t be an excuse to skip work.” But not totally uninterested.

“Don’t worry. I won’t use that as an excuse.”

Grimmjow covered his face with an arm and didn’t see Ichigo grabbing the cover on the shelf until he felt the soft cloth falling softly on him. When he opened his eyes, Ichigo was already closing the door. He leaned the head back on the armrest. Everything was spinning around, and his left shoulder was hurting more than usual; a bothersome tingle spread until the tip of his fingers. Despite that, Grimmjow fell asleep even before Ichigo left the pub to go back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit late, but here it is chapter 6! There may be some mistakes because I checked it, but you never know.  
> Grimmjow has friends, but they're assholes like him.


	7. Eye for an eye it's not necessarily a good deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A frilly café, a girl who brings a serious problem with her and Grimmjow who has one of the most tiring days.

There was a café in Karakura that Rukia particularly liked. It was a frilly tiny cube colored in shapes of pink called _Dollhouse_ and it lived up to its name. The first time  Ichigo was dragged there by Rukia, he thought that someone made a little girl’s bedroom explode in there: windows covered by frilly white lace curtains, stuffed toys of every possible shape -from penguins to giant donuts sprinkled in stars-, soft dark pink chair around round tables covered with froufrou tablecloth and a vase on each of them which vomited flowers and small charms. In short, that café was something that who didn’t know Rukia well would have never associated with her. But her eyes sparkled each time she went there; on the contrary, Ichigo’s eyes hurt because of the multiple colors and the jumble of _girly_ things surrounding him. However, since he invited  Rukia out and wanted to treat her with his first pay, he had no much choice.

A huge explosion of ice creams, fruits, biscuits and sprinkles were piled in a transparent glass. It was called _Addition_ _Shooting Star_ and it was so big that it became a barrier between  Rukia and Ichigo.

“Are you still aiming at trying all the things in the menu?”

“I’m halfway.” Rukia replied to Ichigo, who ordered a plain chocolate without even adding a bit of whipped cream. He believed he saw an annoyed pout coming from the waitress as he denied her proposal to put some _stars_ on it – he knew the _stars_ were those tiny crumbs of sugar that were covering  Rukia’s cup. A mix of chocolate and strawberry syrup was slowly dripping along the balls of ice cream and Rukia quickly stopped it with the long pink spoon.

“By the way, why didn’t Renji come too?”

“He was busy. But I guess he simply doesn’t like this place.”

“I’m not fond of it either.”

“Then why did you invite me here?”

“Because you would have dragged me here anyway.” Ichigo took a sip of chocolate. Despite he didn’t like the design of the place, and the waitress, a girl with pink hair tied in two ponytails, kept glancing at him whenever she had the chance (he couldn’t understand why), he had to admit their hot chocolate was delicious.

“You talk as if I’m a sort of tyrant.”

“You are.”

Between replying and eating more ice cream, Rukia chose the latter. “So, the work is going well.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good.”

“Don’t sound that surprised.”

“It wasn’t that. Actually, I was surprised you were in a hurry to find a job.”

“It’s normal. I’m in my third year of high school. I don’t want to depend on my father for everything.” Ichigo understood he didn’t sound convinced the very moment Rukia tilted her head and her judging eyes appeared from behind the cup of ice cream. “What’s wrong?”

“Ichigo.” Rukia put the spoon down. “There’s something wrong.” It wasn’t a question.

Ichigo couldn’t tell how Rukia always read him like an open book. Even if he wasn’t the best at hiding his feelings, she always guessed when something was going on with him – actually, all his friends managed to read him, but they didn’t openly face him like Rukia did, so he remained a bit oblivious to it.

“Nothing important.” Rukia’s glare arrived at him like a slap in the face. “Uhm…” He massaged his head. “I meet Ginjou the other day at a supermarket. By chance.” Ichigo thought about how to tell her what happened without sounding ambiguous. “He was injured, and I accepted to help him with his wound. At his home.” He tried to read Rukia’s reaction on her face, but she maintained a severe look. “Nothing happened. He just pissed me off, that’s all.”

“I’ll skip the lecture about how you were an idiot and go to the main point.” Ichigo pouted at her. “That’s why you look so worried?” Rukia took a strawberry from the cup and ate half with one munch. “What did he say to piss you off?”

“He asked me if I had sex with Grimmjow.”

“Your boss?”

Ichigo nodded. “Yes...” He hesitated but Rukia was waiting for more. Because she knew there was more. “…and he asked me if I have told my family already.”

Rukia crossed her arms against the chest. “Well, I don’t think he’ll spit it out with your family, if that worries you.” She grasped immediately what truly worried him. “Just if you happen to run into him again, walk straight forward on the opposite direction.”

“He was bleeding a lot. Someone cut him.” Ichigo said it as an explanation. “I just couldn’t leave him here.”

“I know, you’re too good. And stupid.”

“Hey!”

“Talking about it…” Rukia put both arms on the table. “…Ichigo.” Her voice was firm. “The reason you looked for a job, is that you’re scared, aren’t you? You think that if your family finds out, they could–“

“I have no idea what to do after high school.” Ichigo interrupted her. It always hurt when Rukia was so direct, because she was right most of the times. “I still haven’t cleared my mind and I’m not sure I’ll have by the time I’ll be graduated. I don’t want to be a burden for my father, nor for my sisters.”

“Your sisters?”

“If I’ll tell the truth, who knows how much it’ll take for the rumor to spread. And my sisters may have troubles at school. Many already bother Yuzu because Karin is good at football and defends those who are bullied. And more than once they threatened me to hurt them only because I defended myself from those who bullied me for my hair. I don’t want to give both another burden to bear.”

Rukia was about to say something, then she closed her mouth and when she spoke, she said something different from the “Idiot.” Ichigo expected. “People may be cruel. It’s not easy… you thought this over, huh?”

“Yup.” Ichigo drank another sip of chocolate. “By the time I’ll be in college, it’ll be alright. I’ll find another part time job and I’ll manage to get through it.”

“I won’t force you to tell your family. But promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I’ve been thinking about this since when I went to Ginjou’s place. I know he won’t tell a thing, but… I want to be the one that’ll tell them.”

“I know.” They looked at each other. Rukia shook her head and took the menu. “I guess I’ll take a chocolate too. It seems delicious.”

“Hey, I’m not paid that much and this place is damn expensive!”

“Shut up you fool! We’re celebrating your first pay!”

That Friday started like the others. Ichigo arrived at the pub, Di Roy was almost waiting for him at the door, like a faithful dog, and they drank a coke together before starting the preparations. Edrad was a bit late and, before entering the kitchen, he made sure he gave a pat on Ichigo and Di Roy’s backs so hard that both almost bended on their knees. The only difference was that Yylfordt had a fever, Shawlong announced, so he had to call the day off.

“Who’s staying at the counter then?”

“I don’t think Grimmjow will call Luppi. He was a waiter though.”

“I heard that name another time, but–“

“We don’t like talking about him. He’s an asshole.”

So, Ichigo didn’t ask anything more.

There were about thirty minutes at the opening and Grimmjow was nowhere to be seen. That was a first since when Ichigo worked there, but since nobody seemed to be worried -Shawlong was there- he didn’t either. It was when Ichigo was wondering where Grimmjow could be (Shawlong talked about an errand and didn’t add anything else) that the front door opened.

Ichigo was the only one in the hall. Because of the bright light from the outside, what he saw at first was the dark figure of what seemed a girl. Then the person walked in, Ichigo could see her better and concluded it was a girl. Long black hair with a white hat on top; she looked cute and haughty. After examining her surroundings, both hands on her hips, she turned to Ichigo.

“Where’s hiding Yylfordt?”

“Uhm… at home I guess. He’s sick.”

Ichigo didn’t like the way she looked down on him: she clearly didn’t believe his words.

“Stop with this bullshit. Take him out or I’ll go find him.”

She was already walking forward and Ichigo put himself in front of her.

“I told you the truth. He’s not here today. Try tomorrow.”

_ Or never _ . He felt like that girl was trouble and, out of his luck, she had to arrive when nobody was around and -most of all- Grimmjow wasn’t there with his instinct that led him to appear whenever a problem for the pub showed up.

“Piss off, little boy.” She smiled, bending towards him to make him have a better view of her cleavage. “Or else, I’ll make you move. You have a pretty face, I’ll come back to you later, huh?”

“You’re not my type and I can’t let you pass.” Ichigo deadpanned her with a cold voice – even if he forced himself to look elsewhere that wasn’t the prosperous breast she was almost pressing against his chest.

In an instant, her beautiful face twisted in an angered grimace. Ichigo recalled that something similar happened to Yylfordt too and wondered if they were related somehow.

“Not your type? Then or you are a little virgin into two dimensional girls, or you’re a faggot. Because nobody has ever refused me.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Ichigo expected her to reach the peak of the anger. Instead, she exhaled and shook her head. “I have no time to lose with a brat like you. I’ll give you one last chance to tell me where Yylfordt is.”

Right when Ichigo was about to repeat that he wasn’t there, Di Roy arrived and replied faster than him.

“He’s not here. That idiot is sick.” His voice was cold: no trace of mockery nor annoyance. His eyes glared at the girl. “You leave now. You can’t stay here.”

Right after him there was Nakeem and Ichigo realized that they knew the girl and she wasn’t a welcome guest.

“We don’t want you here.” Nakeem blurted out.

Ichigo turned and saw Edrad near the door of the kitchen. Shawlong walked next to Ichigo and gently made him shift behind him. He seemed to be the calmest there, yet his voice was rough.

“You’re not welcome here. If I recall correctly, and I do, there’s a restraining order on you.”

The girl huffed. “Oh, so Yylfordt sent the vanguard instead of coming out and facing me! What a coward!”

“He’s called the day off, you won’t find him here.” Shawlong spoke slowly. “Now, I invite you to leave this place.”

“First you talk about restraining order and then say he isn’t here! And what if I’m just here to be a client?” She raised both arms. “You can’t treat me like this.”

“We’re not open yet. So, leave.”

It seemed like she surrendered. Without saying anything else, she turned around and walked to the door. But when she stopped right before opening it, Ichigo saw Shawlong becoming rigid and taking a step behind. She faced them again. A long knife in her right hand.

“I don’t believe you. Yylfordt is a coward. So, give him to me, or I’ll carve the brat’s eye for good.” She pointed at Di Roy and Edrad walked next to him. “I guess that part of your face is ruined, having it or not is the same, huh?”

She took a step forward. Ichigo didn’t think about it and overcame Shawlong, putting himself again as a shield against that girl. She grinned.

“Oh, the fag. Have you decided to tell me where Yylfordt truly is?”

From that close, the knife looked sharper and the situation more dangerous than Ichigo’s instinct predicted. He was about to regret his choice -but didn’t move of an inch- when the door slammed again.

“Hello Bambietta.” Grimmjow appeared so calm that Ichigo wondered if he realized what was going on. Then he spoke again, his voice echoed like a whip and the girl, Bambietta, for the first time since when she arrived at the pub, trembled. She wasn’t fast enough to hide her surprise. “You have ten seconds to evaporate from here.”

Strong of her knife, she pointed it at Grimmjow. Ichigo jolted forward, but Shawlong grabbed his t-shirt and pulled him back.

“But–!”

Bambietta didn’t swing the knife, she aimed directly at Grimmjow’s stomach. It seemed like she reached him and Ichigo felt his own stomach emptied of whatever there could be inside. However, Grimmjow shifted aside and grabbed her wrist. He smashed her arm against the wall with enough strength to hurt her: she screamed, opened the hand and the knife fell on the floor. Grimmjow kicked it away and Nakeem quickly picked it up. Bambietta fell on her knees, holding her right arm.

“You broke it!” She yelled. “You broke my arm!”

Grimmjow wasn’t impressed by her high-pitched shrieks. He grabbed her hair and forced her to stand up, ignoring her moans of pain mixed with snarls of anger.

“I’ll kill you! You and that fucker who left me!”

“It’s not my fault if you wasn’t fast enough to be the one ending the quick-fuck twisted relationship you two had.” Grimmjow blocked her arms and didn’t let go of her. “Shawlong, call the police. If they don’t throw her into jail for good this time, I’ll make sure they’ll regret it.”

That evening, they opened later than usual.

Grimmjow had to go to the police station and left everything in care of Shawlong. Ichigo recognized one of the policemen who arrived, Kenpachi Zaraki, and he greeted him while he was holding Bambietta with a single arm and not looking bothered by her attempts of wriggling away; Ichigo was stunned on how Kenpachi wasn’t paying the slightest attention to her but kept complaining that the work was all done and he could have stayed in the office instead of rushing there.

Then, they all left. Ichigo observed the lights of the police cars getting dimmer and dimmer until they disappeared. He closed the door and looked at the pub: Di Roy was sitting on a chair, the chin leaning on his crossed arms and the eyes fixed on the glass of water in front of him. Ichigo sat next to him.

“Do you need something?”

Di Roy glared at him, but Ichigo knew that anger was for someone else. “Do you know how to kill someone and avoid prison?”

“Don’t get caught.”

“You have the same sense of humor as Grimmjow…”

“I think that girl won’t get out that soon–”

“Who cares about that bitch.” Di Roy was about to scratch his eye patch but stopped when he barely scraped it with the index and retracted his hand as if it burnt. “It’s all Yylfordt’s fault. No matter what the others say.”

Ichigo didn’t hesitate. “She hurt your eye, didn’t she?”

Instead of replying, Di Roy did something Ichigo couldn’t foresee: he took off his eyepatch. Around his right eye there was an irregular bright red circle, not skin anymore, but living flesh ruined by coarse blisters; one over the eyelid was cut open, the flesh was of a vivid disgusting pink color, yet Di Roy had his eye half-closed and Ichigo hardly believed he could have opened it again like before. It looked painful and wasn’t pleasant to look at. Di Roy covered his eye again.

“Grimmjow said it didn’t matter if I didn’t cover it. But I don’t want to look at it.” He sighed. “It’s difficult, since I have to put drops in the eye every day.”

“Can you see?”

“Just shadows. I’ll have an operation this Fall.” Di Roy drank a bit of water. “That day I had to mind my business.”

“What happened?”

“Yylfordt is beautiful and he sleeps with a lot of girls. With Bambietta he chose the wrong one, but he realized only when she showed up at the pub. She… just seemed to be here to argue with him, because he left her, and it sounded like she had to be the one ending the relationship. Since there were clients, I approached them and said to Yylfordt to get out to deal with his problems. Probably I sounded a bit too harsh, because it was him…” Di Roy snorted. “…and she took out a bottle and sprayed something on me. It hurt a lot and I freaked out. My parents freaked out too when they came to the hospital and I didn’t get why until I saw myself in a mirror...” Di Roy looked in front of him and made a disgusted grimace at the memory.

“I can’t understand how she can still be on the loose.” Ichigo frowned. “I mean, that’s a crime.”

“Who knows? Grimmjow asked and it seems like someone paid for her to be cleared. This ended up being labeled as an incident, since she had this product for the house and not a mix of whatever acid there was inside.” Di Roy pointed at one of the cameras. “Grimmjow wanted those for a while and when I recovered, they were already here. This time she cannot be saved by some money and a good summation. But nobody will give me back my previous looks.”

“How could they deny everything?”

Di Roy’s smile was empty. “It looks like I have an allergy I wasn’t aware of.” Bullshit. “Do you pity me now?”

Ichigo was angered. He couldn’t do much about it, but it wasn’t fair what happened. His rising irritation made no space for whatsoever kind of pity he could have felt towards Di Roy.

“Well, this time she won’t get away with it. They took the shots from the cameras, didn’t they?” He almost snarled and Di Roy was surprised. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

“I-I know. Hey, don’t talk big as if you are older than me!” Di Roy gave him a playful punch on the arm. “I mean, that’s in the past. I’ll see again from the eye in few months.”

As he said it, the door opened. Di Roy was so loud that the person who entered heard him and replied. “That’s good news, iron teeth.”

The boy looked like a small concentrated of malice and had nothing of the innocence of the age he showed.

Ichigo was puzzled and stood up. “Aren’t you a bit too young to come here?”

The boy acted as if he noticed him only after he talked, and his pleased expression made Ichigo question his age. That guy ignored the untold rule of respecting someone’s personal space and got so close to Ichigo that their bodies almost collided. Ichigo was forced to take a step back and the boy laughed at his own personal victory.

“Hello, newbie. How many hours will you resist?”

“Actually, he’s been working here for more than a month!” Di Roy sounded like a proud father talking about his son. “What the hell are you doing here, Luppi?”

So he was the asshole nobody wanted to talk about. Luppi licked his upper lip and approached Di Roy. He reacted as Ichigo did but the expression on his face was the same he made once when he saw a smashed bug on the street while they were doing an errand together. “It looks like I’m indispensable for Grimmjow.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself. You’re here just temporary!”

“But he keeps calling me.”

Ichigo heard Shawlong descending the stairs. “Actually, I called you. And it’d be better if you get prepared.”

Despite Luppi’s haughty attitude, he recognized Shawlong’s authority and obeyed. Yet, his smirk didn’t disappear.

Ichigo casually bended towards Shawlong. “How old is he?”

“Older than Grimmjow.”

“…how old is Grimmjow then?”

Shawlong looked amused. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Because he’s not here.”

“Then you’ll ask him when he’ll be here again.”

Di Roy crossed his arms. “If he comes back and Luppi is still here, we’ll be all doomed.”

Shawlong sighed. “I’m the last one who wants him here. But we have a business to run. Grimmjow will understand.” He turned to Ichigo and Di Roy. “But if you have a good plan to discard him, I’ll be all ears.”

Ichigo felt unease. “…you don’t use discard with people… you were kidding, weren’t you?”

Once again, Shawlong didn’t reply, he just gifted Ichigo with his ambiguous smile.

Grimmjow had to testify against Bambietta. He knew they would have called him again and the system wouldn’t have spared his employees, who were there when the accident happened. The policeman who had to take his testify, Kenpachi, wanted to stay there as much as Grimmjow wanted, so he left his desk and went away declaring that he would have put that paper work on someone else. He was the one who took Bambietta –he literally raised her with a single arm and threw her inside the car when she tried to munch on his neck– and looked like a troublemaker who arrived on the location hoping for a gunfire; Grimmjow didn’t miss his disappointed expression when he realized that the criminal was already caught and tied, nor his little exchange with a very out-of-place Ichigo who didn’t know how to act in front of him.

The one who entered the room was Shinji.

“Oh.” It was his only reaction. “I guess it’s good I’ve lost at rock, paper, scissor with Kaien. He would have freaked out if he knew it was your business everyone is talking about.”

“Nothing happened to his precious brat. Nothing happened at all.”

“So why are you here keeping me from going back home?”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and told the whole story. He began from when he arrived at the pub, saw Bambietta and reacted accordingly to the moment Kenpachi arrived and lifted her like a baggage. Shinji made some question just to clear few points.

“You’re the only one who acted.”

“Yes.”

“And nobody else did anything.”

“Not after I arrived. Don’t you have the shots of my security system?”

“We have to compare.” Shinji scratched his head. “I believe you, but that’s the method.”

“I know, I know… may I go now?” Grimmjow glanced at the clock: he spent almost three hours in there. “I have to work.”

“Yup. Just make sure not to pass near Kaien’s office, or–”

The door opened, and Shinji believed he summoned him with mere words, because Kaien entered the office with a huge smile.

“Hey Shinji! Aren’t you done ye–”

The voice froze inside his throat and the joyful expression on his face. As he recognized Grimmjow, he connected all the pieces of the puzzle from the crazy girl who burst into a local and menaced the employees with her knife to someone who, the rumors said, was hurt. His knees almost ceded.

“My god, what–”

“Nothing happened.” Shinji blocked him before he could explode. “Everyone’s fine! Read this!” He smashed Grimmjow’s testify on his face. “And there are also videos. They checked them, and everyone is fine.”

Kaien relaxed a bit. “I see. Well, I’ll go fetch Ichigo tonight then. He’ll be probably shocked.”

Grimmjow stood up. “I’m going to work now, if we’re done.”

Shinji nodded. “We are.”

Kaien raised his right hand as Grimmjow raised his while he was walking towards him. He swung the palm, sure their hands would have smacked one against the other. However, Grimmjow slapped his forehead and went past him.

“I’m bringing the kid home tonight, if this will prevent you from coming and freaking out about security.”

“You’re mistaken. I just want to come and drink a bit.”

Shinji slapped Kaien’s head with a piece of paper rolled on itself. “That’s obviously not the reason. The kid’s fine.”

Grimmjow agreed. “Yes. It was just a shallow cut after all.”

Kaien paled and Shinji smacked a hand against his own forehead.

“What… cut?”

Grimmjow shrugged. “Nah, I was just kidding.” However, he left Kaien leafing over the testify and he clearly heard him asking about the videos.

“Thank you, Grimmjow.” Shinji said goodbye his middle finger.

It took Grimmjow almost an hour to go back to the pub and it was few minutes to eleven pm when he opened the door, grateful to be again in a familiar and cozy place… only to be not grateful anymore when he met Luppi’s lustful gaze. He growled, a sound that roared inside his throat and made his voice similar to the disappointed sound of a wild animal. Shawlong didn’t need to meet him to guess his mood.

“We had to call him.”

“Next time, call Nel.”

“She has her own job. Luppi kinda lives off these part time jobs.”

“Until he’ll go back to his freaking country.” Grimmjow muttered. “Hey you.” He grabbed Ichigo’s shoulder while he was passing near him with a tray filled with steins of beer. The glass clattered, and many drops of beer slid along the smooth surfaces. Ichigo turned to him with a glare.

“What the fuck?”

“I’ll bring you home tonight.”

The shock was so high that Ichigo barely managed to keep the tray in balance. “What?”

“Choose: me or your uncle freaking out because he believes Bambietta cut you.”

“Why should he believe something like this?”

Grimmjow casually moved his right hand towards him, as if he was shooing him away. “He’s gullible.”

“What did you tell him?! Hey!”

“Bring those beers before they’ll turn into piss.”

He ignored Ichigo’s attempt of maintaining that conversation and walked to the counter. Di Roy was covering for Yylfordt and he seemed at ease, despite he stayed there only few times. Grimmjow put an arm on the counter and moved a finger signing him to get closer.

“Grimmjow. It took a lot of time.”

“It was worth at least.” He poked his forehead. “How are things going here?”

“Nice. Luppi is disturbing Ichigo and not me. I’ll leave the position to you, just let me–”

“No. Stay there. Things are going smoothly so…”

Ichigo reached the counter: he looked tired and ready to kill.

“If Luppi talks to me again, I’m going to kick his ass.”

“You have my blessing then.” Grimmjow pointed at a glass; Di Roy understood and poured him a beer.

“Seriously?” Ichigo glanced at him while waiting for the new order he took to be ready. “How old are you?”

“Huh?”

“How old are you?” He repeated.

“Thirty-two.”

Ichigo glanced at Luppi. “And Luppi…?”

“Thirty-three.”

“You and Shawlong are mocking me.”

“Ask him to show you his documents then.” Grimmjow was tired and Luppi was the last person he wanted to talk about. The karma probably listened to his thoughts, because it sent Luppi directly next to him. He nudged Ichigo away and sneaked in between him and Grimmjow.

“Good evening boss. I thought you abandoned us.”

Ichigo was sure that if Japanese government made homicide legal in that very moment, Luppi would have been dead meat by Grimmjow’s hand in less than a second.

“You can leave now. Go to Shawlong for the money.”

Luppi faked a pout. “Oh my, you weren’t this frigid when we first met.” He was about to add something after the small chuckle he did to mock Grimmjow but when he noticed Grimmjow was minding his beer more than him –and he wasn’t just pretending to ignore him– his smile turned into an annoyed grimace. “Well, see you around.”

“I hope not.” Di Roy muttered, but only when he was sure Luppi’s ears were out of reach. “Your order’s coming right away, Ichigo.”

“Thank you.” Ichigo glanced at Luppi’s back. “How do you know him?” He was looking at Di Roy, but Grimmjow replied.

“I had sex with him. Worst awakening of my life.”

Ichigo felt like he had just received a punch into the stomach. He thought Luppi was just teasing Grimmjow, like he kept doing with him during the whole evening, pointing out how he had a nice body for a teenager and he would have gladly taught him one or two tricks. But what appeared on his face wasn’t surprise. Or better, he was utterly shocked (Grimmjow-had-sex-with-a-guy) but another feeling was so strong that surfaced before anything else.

“Hey, what’s with that disgusted face? I’m not into people like him. I was drunk.”

“A lot drunk.” Ichigo commented.

“How much do you care about your job here?”

“You can’t fire me because you have poor taste in men.” That sentence sounded so strange associated to him.

Grimmjow laughed and smacked his right hand against his back. “Go back to work. As soon as you’re finished, I’ll bring you home.”

Ichigo huffed. “I can go on my own. My uncle won’t–“ Grimmjow put the screen of the mobile in front of his eyes.

_ \- I told Isshin that you’ll bring Ichigo home. _

_ \- Isshin is my brother. You met him. _

_ \- So, don’t try to fool me and send Ichigo home alone. _

“I’m not in the mood to deal with your uncle tonight. I’ve spent more time than I had accounted for inside that nuthouse.”

That meant, Ichigo had no choice.

“Damn it. Why does he have to decide…?”

“If it bothers you that much, you can go with Shawlong. It’s pretty much the same.”

The drinks were ready, but Ichigo ignored them and looked at Grimmjow. “No. I’ll come with you.” He pouted. “I can stand someone even if he has horrible tastes in men.”

Grimmjow was surprised but showed it only for a quick instant. He raised the glass at him. “We’ll discuss this again at your first hangover.”

“I’m still underage. I cannot drink.” Ichigo glanced at him as if he was an idiot who didn’t know it.

“And you won’t reach the right age with that attitude.”

“Ah, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They glared at each other. Then Ichigo took the tray and walked away.

Di Roy had something in mind, something that sprouted into his mind while looking at Grimmjow and Ichigo and almost reached the zone of his brain where that intuition would have turned into a full developed thought. However, that little something lost the tracks when a client waving the receipt and asking for the drink she paid for distracted him. Di Roy wouldn’t have recalled that intuition for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit I would be a regular customer at Dollhouse.


	8. Don't spill the tea without a rag in the bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo takes one step forward. And it feels like he fell a hundred steps back.

A song Ichigo didn’t know was playing at the radio. The orange streetlamps threw flashing bundles of lights through the windows. The cabin of the car gave him a warm welcome and a repair from the fresh night breeze. Grimmjow didn’t talk, Ichigo didn’t either. Both listened to the sound of the instruments, slightly distorted by the signal. It was a conciliating situation.

However, Ichigo didn’t feel completely at ease. Not nervous, but neither calm. He kept staring outside the window, watching the streets and buildings rolling by. Because of that, he noticed something wrong.

“Uhm… you had to turn there.”

“I know.”

Ichigo , who was lazily leaning in the corner formed by the car door and the seat, with the head against the headrest, straightened his back and looked at Grimmjow.

“You’re not bringing me home!”

“I am. Just a little detour.”

“I have school tomorrow! I don’t want a detour! Where are you bringing me?”

“Home.”

“My home isn’t there!”

“Mine is, Kurosaki.”

Grimmjow called him for the first time with something which wasn’t _brat_ or a snarl and declared they were going to his place. That was enough to surprise  Ichigo and delay his replay.

“You can go home after you dropped me at mine.” He muttered.

“That way I won’t have anyone who brings my groceries to the sixth floor.”

“Don’t you have an elevator?”

“Out of order.”

“You’re basically using me.”

“Wow, you’re not that stupid after all.”

“I may not help you and go back on my own.”

“Go ahead then.”

That plan was good. Not only Grimmjow would have been annoyed by his uncle, but also, he would have brought on his own all his groceries to whatever floor he lived on. Only downside: he lived on the other side of the town (which was getting further and further), and Ichigo didn’t want to walk for more or less an hour at night with the perspective of explaining the whole matter to his family.

Grimmjow lived at the sixth floor of a residential apartment building. He had his own parking lot and the building was surrounded by a thriving garden. He was wealthy. And the elevator of such a luxurious place -they even had a guard at the gate- was out of order. Ichigo couldn’t believe it until he saw it with his own eyes; a huge laminated label, _out of order_ , was hanging on the doors of the elevator. He surrendered and followed Grimmjow holding the two boxes he shoved into his arms.

“Grimmjow.”

“What?”

“Are you sure you can bring those boxes? I mean, your arm–”

“That’s why you’re bringing half for me. Save your breath, we’re at the first floor.”

“But you also have plastic bags hanging on your arms, so–”

“You know what?” Grimmjow put the boxes down. “You’re right.” He took both the plastic bags away from his arms and put them on the boxes Ichigo was holding. The sudden weight pressed on him with unexpected violence and was afraid he would have fallen down the stairs.

“Too heavy?”

Ichigo couldn’t clearly see Grimmjow but recognized the mockery of his voice.

“You cannot call these heavy.”

He regretted his decision. At the sixth floor, when he finally could put the boxes down, Ichigo made a huge effort not to sigh of relief. His legs felt like pudding, both arms hurt, and his brain pulsated in irritation: he knew that Grimmjow walked slowly on purpose. He had not proof of it, but he felt it and knew he was right.

“What are you doing?” Grimmjow lost time putting the four boxes in front of the door to create an irregular semicircle, a sort of barrier they had to climb over to get into the house. “Oi…”

Grimmjow put the keys into the keyhole and gently knocked once on the door. Ichigo opened the mouth to talk again (and tell him he was fed off his attempts of mocking him) but as he heard a small noise, a little scratch, coming from inside, he didn’t say anything.

“Ah, they’re awaken.” Grimmjow grumbled. “She didn’t put them to sleep.” He sounded a bit annoyed. “I also bought her the new collar she wanted.”

Ichigo had short time to elaborate Grimmjow words. There were children and his partner inside the apartment – Neliel, his brain focused on Neliel. And he was few steps away from seeing them for the first time, after Grimmjow confessed he slept with a man hardly anyone without masochistic tendencies would have chosen (he talked about a collar, so maybe he was into that kind of things – another shock for Ichigo). Those were too many information that didn’t match together for a handful of seconds to elaborate, and a feeble dizziness blurred his mind.

Then, Grimmjow entered inside the circle of boxes and opened the door. Not completely, only a little opening which was enough to put a hand inside. Grimmjow looked down and so did Ichigo. From inside the apartment, three tiny black kittens scampered over Grimmjow’s feet: one tried to climb on his leg, another looked around in confusion, while the third one attacked one of the boxes, claws out trying to climb it. Grimmjow grabbed all of them, opened the door and turned the light on.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” One of the kittens meowed at him. He turned to Ichigo. “Bring the boxes inside. Leave them on the entrance. You can keep your shoes on.” It was the same rough and bossy tone he used at the pub. Grimmjow probably forgot that he kidnapped Ichigo to make him do his errands – or, more probably, he just didn’t care.

The tiny castle of hypothesis Ichigo built wasn’t as solid as he thought, and it collapsed on itself in front of that view. Grimmjow was huge and rough, but those minuscule cats were hanging on his arm without any fear and he was treating them with a care that Ichigo wasn’t aware he possessed.

“What are you spacing out for? Get in!”

Ichigo moved the boxes and the plastic bags to the genkan. Even if Grimmjow told him he could keep his shoes on, he took them off out of habit and entered the apartment. The only Japanese element was the small genkan that Grimmjow didn’t seem to use that much, since he didn’t take off his shoes; the entrance wasn’t a long corridor with doors bringing to different rooms but opened on the living room after a brief space of three steps. A sofa in front of a television and right behind a table with four chairs around; next, a quite big peninsula which enclosed the kitchen; behind everything there was a sliding French door bringing to the balcony – judging by the trees, it probably faced on the garden. There were four doors, one near the kitchen and the other three on the opposite side. It wasn’t that huge, but the disposition of the furniture and the clear colors (white walls and light brown furniture) gave a sense of open space.

However, Ichigo was quickly over the apartment. He looked at Grimmjow, who put the kittens in a huge basket filled with fluff-looking pillows. Before he could turn his back, one of them (Ichigo bet it was the one who tried climbing the box) was already out and ready for adventure.

“Where’s she?” He muttered to himself catching the little rascal.

“Uhm… may I use the toilet?”

Grimmjow was inspecting the kitchen and distractedly pointed at the door further from the French door. Ichigo closed the door behind him and took a deep slow breath.

Grimmjow had three kittens. Three kittens. And he took care of them. He repeated these words inside his brain, because that was a difficult reality to accept: Grimmjow, who looked like a criminal ready to slaughter someone’s throat and always with a sharp reply into his mouth, had three kittens at home and he cared for them. He had prepared the barrier because he knew they would have tried to sneak out and but confident way he picked them up showed he was used to it. He seemed so… Ichigo wanted to find another word to describe it, but there was only one. Gentle. Grimmjow was gentle with the kittens.

Ichigo took another breath and went to the sink. He looked at his reflection on the mirror -kinda pale, hair a bit messy and eyes dulled by school and work- and touched around the sink looking for the lever. Something soft touched the back of his hand and Ichigo jerked. He retreated the whole arm and managed to prevent his voice from yelling, ending up in a strange wheeze.

The sink was black. No. The sink was in porcelain, white shiny porcelain. There was something black in it. Black and fluffy with two big blue eyes. A cat was spread into the sink, filling half of it like a bizarre hairy liquid. Ichigo recognized the ears, the tails, the paws…

“Pantera!” He heard Grimmjow calling. “Where are you?”

The cat in the sink immediately pressed himself (or herself?) more against the porcelain and Ichigo, who went back to the door, could now barely see the tip of the fur.

“Grimmjow.” He opened the door. “There’s a cat in your sink.” Behind Grimmjow, all the doors of the sideboards were wide open: he was looking for that Pantera apparently. “You have another black cat, right?”

If Grimmjow were to say he only had three kittens, Ichigo would have probably believed him. Between Grimmjow being a careful nanny for them and him having a foreign cat into the house without knowing, the first one sounded the most probable situation.

When Grimmjow entered the toilet, Ichigo was sure the cat gave him a deep glare, as if he (she?) was blaming him for having revealed the hideout.

“Pantera, you asshole! I told you countless time you have to care about the children when I’m not home.” He sighed. “I also bought a new collar for you, even if you always sulk when I come home after I pet another cat.”

Ichigo wasn’t sure if he heard correctly: Grimmjow had just talked about the kittens as if they were his babies, hadn’t he?

Pantera jumped out of the hideout and trotted outside the toilet. In a second, the three kittens were all behind their...

“Is a male or–“

“Female.”

Ichigo nodded. “Excuse me, you do what with cats?”

“Pet them.” Grimmjow looked at him as if he had just gone totally nuts. “What should I do with them?” He seemed to expect a response to his question.

“Home cats?”

“Stray cats too. I’m not racist.”

“That’s not what racist mean…”

But Grimmjow didn’t listen to him. He reached the kitchen and took a box from the pantry. “I shouldn’t give you kibbles, I know our neighbors give you food every day and you let them pet you. Open relationship my ass.” Despite his words, Grimmjow poured some in her bowl anyway. The kittens, all but one, circled around the bowl and put their tiny heads into it together with their mother; the third one sat down and looked up at the ceiling, finding it apparently much more interesting than food.

“Open relationship?” Ichigo felt like he previously put together the pieces of the wrong puzzle and now Grimmjow was showing him what was the right combination. “I mean… like the one you have with Neliel?”

Grimmjow frowned at him. “Who told you about me and Neliel?” His words were crude.

“I… just guessed when I heard you some time ago.”

“Tch… the only open relationship I have now it’s with this ungrateful girl.” Pantera was busy eating, but it seemed like she recognized her name, as she raised her head, licked her mouth and gave Grimmjow a quick glance before going back to the bowl. “When Nel fell in love with another person, we broke up. That’s it.”

From his words, Ichigo couldn’t understand if he regretted it or didn’t care. Grimmjow spoke as usual, with his harsh voice and seeming like he was in an unstable balance between boredom and annoyance. He had a relationship with Neliel. And a one-night-stand with Luppi. Ichigo felt all the tiredness from work pooling inside his brain and preparing a headache. Ichigo renounced to understand.

“Di Roy told you what happened with Bambietta, I guess.”

Ichigo didn’t expect that abrupt change of topic. Grimmjow leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

“Yes.”

“He’s fond of you.” Grimmjow scratched his right cheek. “Well, everyone has his tastes.”

“You slept with Luppi.” Ichigo shut him up. Grimmjow’s attempt of smiling was a grimace which didn’t hide the fact he was pissed off.

“I’ll be waiting for you to step out of the line, brat.”

“Then wait. After all, you have–” Ichigo stopped when he noticed Grimmjow was looking at the floor in front of him. He lowered his head too and saw Pantera sat in front of him, her big blue eyes fixed on him. “Uhm… does she think I’m an intruder or…?”

“I don’t make anyone enter here.” Grimmjow reprimanded him. “She tolerates whoever I bring in.”

“Tolerates?”

“Well, she munched on Edrad’s hand and made him bleed, but only once. She wanted to make him know she doesn’t like him.”

“Did he make something to her?” Ichigo felt uncomfortable, as Pantera was following every single movement he made: he tried to step on the left and her head followed him, same when he moved back to the right.

“No. She doesn’t just like him.”

Pantera suddenly crouched down. Her body started waving, from the tip of the tail to the head, as if her muscles were charging energy to make a quick movement. Ichigo pictured the image of her attacking him with a jump.

“Uhm… I’m going home now…” He tried to reason with her, even if he felt so stupid because a cat couldn’t understand words, right? “…so–”

His eyes detected the push of the slender paws on the floor, but his body wasn’t fast enough to catch up. Pantera jumped at him and Ichigo closed his eyes. A quite heavy weight landed on his right shoulder, then it distributed on the left one. Ichigo stayed still as he realized Pantera was using him as a sort of armchair; something wet poked at his right cheek, it was ticklish, but he didn’t move. Yet, when Grimmjow got closer to him, he startled.

“You even kiss strangers.” He growled while taking Pantera off from Ichigo’s shoulders. He brought her at his eyes’ level. “We need to talk about this.” As a response, Pantera nuzzled the tip of Grimmjow’s nose. Ichigo couldn’t put his finger on it, but he believed that was enough to soften Grimmjow. “Tch. Go put the babies to sleep.”

He put her down and she went fetching her kittens. Pantera pushed her head against each of them in a gentle nudge; two followed her, but she had to grab the third one by the neck and dragged it to the kennel.

“She doesn’t hate me, does she?”

“She didn’t bite you.” Grimmjow sounded like he was explaining something obvious. “Move, I’ll bring your ass home.”

He closed the door as Ichigo exited the apartment. While he turned the key, he rubbed his eyes.

“I can go home–“

“Quit it. I’m not fond of it either, but it’s better than your uncle busting my balls.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, but you look tired.”

“You look tired too. Move.”

Grimmjow massaged his left shoulder (did it hurt or was it a sort of tic?). They were again inside the car and there was a thing Ichigo wanted to ask him.

“Today everyone was less harsh than usual with Di Roy.”

“Do you think they don’t like him?” Grimmjow glanced at him while turning on the car. Ichigo suddenly felt embarrassed.

“No… it was just strange.”

“Tomorrow will all be back as usual.”

“How about Yylfordt? If he doesn’t come, then you’ll have to call again–”

“Don’t say his name. I’d rather ask Nnoitra. Ah, by the way…”

Grimmjow leaned towards him and Ichigo’s heart skipped a beat only to start beating faster than before. He was trapped inside the cabin, his back pressed against the car door and Grimmjow’s right hand leaning on the window, too close to him. Ichigo gulped down and wondered many things: what Grimmjow wanted to do, why he was doing that, but especially why he wasn’t pushing him back and going home on foot. It seemed like his instinct turned off as Grimmjow’s face was only few centimeters from his. Ichigo was about to close his eyes. Then Grimmjow rubbed the knuckles on his head and the warm agitation that awakened his whole body from the tiredness turned into a sharp wave of pain spreading from his skull to the tip of his fingers. He tried to avoid that torture, but only smashed himself against the dashboard and Grimmjow was still close enough to hurt him.

“Why that?!” Ichigo almost yelled when he managed to push Grimmjow back on his seat.

“Remind this whenever you’ll bring back my mistake with Luppi.” Grimmjow glared at him.

Ichigo glared back. “Damn you…”

Ichigo was again at the _Dollhouse_. When he told his father and sisters he would have treated them, he let Karin decide the place because he believed that their interests  were more or less the same. So, when he found himself again inside that pinkish corny café, he believed Rukia put a spell on him. As always, the waitress with magenta hair glanced at him whenever she was near.

“What’s wrong Ichi-nii?” Yuzu seemed at ease. She lowered the menu to look at him. He shook his head.

“Nothing. Just a bit tired.”

“Well, yesterday you came back home later than usual.” Karin commented. “I heard you.”

“I thought you were sleeping.”

She shrugged at him and went back to her menu, a huge laminated leaflet with a smooth cover patterned with flowers which had a different texture, almost like velvet. Ichigo didn’t even open his, because he knew what to order already.

Isshin , who had never gone there, was trying to understand what there was inside the cocktails and cups. He was sitting next to Karin and asked her whenever he didn’t know. Ichigo suspected that was all but a fake only to have one of his _bonding moments_ with her. He got along easier with Yuzu, while Karin the more she grew up, the more she seemed disenchanted by  Isshin – in other words, sometimes his silly behavior fed her off and Isshin amplified the matter.

“Then I think I’ll have this one.” He concluded with a huge smile pointing at a cup which made Ichigo have vertigo. “And you, Ichigo?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Eh? Why don’t you take this one?” Yuzu pointed at a cup filled with so many pinkish things. “It’s chocolate.”

Ichigo doubted there was chocolate in there. “No thanks. I like the hot chocolate they make here.”

“Huh? You know this place?” Karin was puzzled. “How?”

“I come here with Rukia.” More than he wanted to but kept that addiction for himself.

Karin nodded. Her smile was ambiguous, as if she had understood something Ichigo couldn’t see.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. You’re a good friend with Rukia, right?”

“Uh, yes. More or less.”

“I see, I see…” Karin disappeared behind the menu and Yuzu gave her a puzzled look.

“What do you mean, Karin?”

She swung a hand towards the twin as if that wasn’t a huge matter. “Nothing at all, Yuzu. You know, Ichigo soon will go to college. It’s normal.”

“I know it. But what’s the matter with that?” Yuzu wasn’t understanding and felt that Karin was mocking her. “Karin, just tell me!”

“I’ll go choose my slice of cake.” She stood up and Yuzu was right after her, clinging on her jacket.

“Why are you so mysterious! I want to know too!”

Isshin waited until his daughters were out of reach and elbowed Ichigo.

“You like Rukia, don’t yo–“

“Not the slightest bit.” Ichigo’s reply was sudden. “She’s my friend, dad.”

“I know, I know.” Isshin looked pensive. “I really believed she was the right one though.”

“Dad, you thought this of every single female friends who stepped into our house.”

“That’s not true.”

Ichigo frowned at him and raised a hand. “Tatsuki, Inoue, Senna…” He counted them on the tip of his fingers. “You and Yuzu eavesdrop whenever they come home to study.”

Isshind didn’t seem as embarrassed as he should have been. On the contrary, he seemed proud of himself. “It’s a father’s duty to worry about his own son.”

“Well, it seems like you’re all pressing me on getting a girlfriend as fast as possible.” Ichigo didn’t want to sound that harsh. If his father noticed, he hid it, because he was smiling.

“I’m glad you have many good friends.” Isshin nodded with vigor. “I was worried, because you’re unfriendly and ill-tempered.”

“I’m not unfriendly and ill-tempered. What idea you have of your son?!”

“I remember when you were younger. So cute and lovely…” Ignoring his son’s remark, he wiped off his eyes, but Ichigo doubted he was truly crying. “…and now you are a grown up.” All of a sudden, Isshin turned serious; his smile was comfortable. “I’m proud of you, Ichigo.” He wasn’t anymore the silly old man who made a fool of himself, but the tender and reliable father who always had his family’s back.

Ichigo felt a weight into his stomach. That wasn’t the pleasant gurgling coming from a nice sensation, but a bothersome tingling that spread to his throat and almost forced him to throw his voice out. Even if his eyes hurt, Ichigo managed to keep the tears back.

“What’s wrong?”

Ichigo shook his head. “It’s just…” His father wasn’t proud of the right son and he had to tell him. It was on the tip of his tongue, because his father wasn’t faking a sill behavior for once, he was serious and in wait for him. Ichigo had just to say few words. “…I don’t really know what to do after high school. I’m still confused.” And he failed. “I’ll clear my mind up. Nothing to worry about.”

Ichigo expected the usual tantrum of his father about the blood they shared and how a Shiba was always able to find his own way (or whatever, Kaien and Kujaku did this speech once, but he was barely 10 years old). However, he did something unexpected: he ruffled his hair.

“I’m happy, Ichigo.”

“That I have no idea what to do after high school?”

“Of course not. It may seem something worrisome, but there’s surely a way to figure it out.” Isshin shook his head. “I’m glad you opened up a bit to me. You used to do it a lot with your mother. I noticed only after she was gone that whatever you told me had passed through her first.” His smile widened, he gave a last energic stroke to Ichigo’s hair and patted his shoulder. “I won’t force you telling me what troubles you. But I’ll be there when you’ll need it.”

Did his father read through him? Ichigo didn’t know. But he felt better and the weight that oppressed his stomach was gone.

Karin and Yuzu came back. Karin was snickering, while Yuzu was so red that her face almost matched the small rubber roses she used to tie her hair.

“Ichi-nii…” Her voice trembled. “…Rukia is your girlfriend and you didn’t tell us anything…”

Ichigo snorted. “Rukia is not my girlfriend!” He couldn’t tell why his family believed that, when he was obvious that he and Rukia were only good friends – who yelled at each other more often than not. That wasn’t enough to calm Yuzu down or to make Karin’s sly smile disappear. Yet, surrounded by his family, he felt at ease.

“Ichigo, do you like Rukia?”

That probably was Rukia and Ichigo’s week and nobody told them, because only two days before his sisters revealed they believed Rukia was Ichigo’s girlfriend – actually, Karin believed it, while Yuzu just got along with the idea when she was told. His father wasn’t to take into consideration, because he believed every girl around him was a potential love affair. Now, it was Renji’s turn. At least they weren’t at the _Dollhouse_ but in a normal café.

“No. She’s a friend. Why you ask me, Renji?” Ichigo looked dazed at him.

“Because you two got along in no time.”

“Well, you get along with Rukia too.”

“I know, but…” Renji scratched his head. “Whatever, how’s work going?”

Ichigo didn’t question that sudden turn in the conversation. “Pretty well.” He thought again about what happened in the last month and it seemed like it was more time. “And college?”

“Not bad. Next year it’s your turn, huh?” Renji moved the straw in circles into his glass and a small vortex grew at the center of the tea; the small stream made the ice cubes dance around, fast at first, then slower and slower, until they floated to the surface. It happened in few seconds, as the cubes had no much space to move. He spoke again when the cubes stopped. “I was thinking… about Rukia.” He came back on his steps. “Does she have someone?”

Ichigo knew that Rukia and Renji knew each other since when they were children. What he couldn’t understand was why Renji was asking him those things when he could have asked Rukia directly.

“Why are you asking me? What’s wrong with everyone lately?”

“What do you mean by that?” Renji frowned. “Didn’t she tell you anything?”

“Tell me what? Be clearer!”

“I was telling you! Don’t interrupt other people!”

“And you don’t drag it around!”

Renji snorted. “Lately, I haven’t talked a lot with Rukia. I wonder if something’s wrong.”

“Just ask her, not me. I’m not Rukia.”

That wasn’t the answer Renji wanted to hear. When he didn’t add anything else (he was distractedly checking the mobile), Ichigo went on. “Don’t go round and round. Just be clear and don’t wonder.”

“Well, that’s easy for you!” Renji snarled.

“But if I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

At Ichigo’s words, Renji calmed down a bit. He sighed and shook his head. “We are…” He hesitated. “I wish we were as close as we were years ago.”

Ichigo didn’t say anything and waited for him to go on.

“I mean, I think we grew up. There’s not a precise… thing that happened. We still go out together, even if we attend different classes, but… it’s like we took two different paths and I can only see her from the other side of the road without crossing it. I’m not allowed to cross it.” Renji put both elbows on the table and pressed his forehead on the hands. “Next time I sound this sappy kick my ass. Don’t make me repeat it.”

“No worries. You’ve given me the goose bumps.” Ichigo wasn’t disgusted, but his eyes were almost empty as he spoke. “Next time prepare your discourse first.”

“You little bastard…”

“But who told you you can’t cross the road? Just cross it.”

Ichigo made it seem obvious and looked at Renji as if he was an idiot because he didn’t think about it before.

“That was just a metaphor.”

“Then it’s a bad metaphor. Just find something better to explain yourself.” Ichigo put his back against the chair and crossed his arms. “Tell Rukia. I’m sure she’ll understand. Even if I didn’t get what she should understand. I’m sure she thinks of you as a friend.”

“I can’t, Ichigo.” Renji’s voice sounded so harsh that surprised Ichigo. “I mean, the situation now it’s not that bad with her. I don’t want to ruin it. If I choose to do something, everything could change in better or in worse. Since I don’t have much to complain about the current state of things, maybe I shouldn’t do anything.”

Ichigo looked at him without knowing what to say or do. “Renji, but if you’re friends–”

“Ichigo, do you like Rukia?” Renji fidgeted on the chair. He touched his hair, adjusted the bandana on the forehead and scratched his neck: he was nervous. “Because I do. And not as a friend.”

“Oh…” That was all Ichigo could reply. They were friends: he knew it. Renji liked Rukia more than a friend: he didn’t know it. Not until now. “But–”

“I think she likes you.” Renji was accusing him with his eyes, but Ichigo didn’t feel hatred or disappointment coming from him. He was only… sad?

“Renji. Rukia doesn’t like me… uhm, more than a friend.”

“How could you say it? You’re not that sharp when it comes to things like this.”

“Hey, I’m sharper than you!” Ichigo snorted. “How could you know it if you asked me that, huh? And even if she liked me, what could I do about it?” That hurt Renji. Ichigo read it on his face and felt guilty. “Ah, damn it. Renji, I didn’t want to–”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re right.” Renji stood up. “I’ll go now.”

Ichigo was next to him with a single jump. He grabbed Renji by his arm and pulled him.

“Where the fuck are you going? I told you that–”

“I know what you told me, Ichigo!” Renji jerked his arm away. “And I know you’re right.”

“About what?”

“About everything.” Everything what? Ichigo didn’t like when things got too complicated and people complicated things themselves. Even if he was the last one who could talk – but he didn’t go to his friends complaining and then leaving when nothing could be done. He just piled up things inside trying to find the best way to fit everything together without bothering nor hurting those he cared for (not the best way, but Ichigo didn’t want to admit it).

Renji shook his head. “I’ll just let things how they are now. Rukia seems fine like this. Thanks for listening.”

Ichigo grabbed him by his jacket again. “Let’s get out, Renji. I have to tell you something.” He dragged him outside the café along the road, ignoring his complaints. Renji could have freed himself easily, he was strong enough, but the curiosity of knowing what Ichigo had to tell refrained him from snapping out. Ichigo stopped near an isolated bus stop, where there was only a shop facing on the road and that was the fixed day off.

“Ichigo–”

“Renji.” Ichigo took a deep breath. “Rukia doesn’t like me. She’s never liked me.”

“You dragged me here only to repeat it?”

That seemed a better idea before the walk, before Ichigo vented out whatever there was inside him while dragging Renji before him. But now they were there and Ichigo had not enough imagination to make up a plausible excuse for that reaction.

“Because… I like males.” Ichigo shoved the hands inside the pockets of the jacket and waited. Waited for Renji’s expression to change from a puzzled one to a surprised one. No, he wasn’t surprised. He was shocked. His eyes opened widely, and he opened his mouth too, but probably didn’t connect the brain, because no sound came out except for a strange sound which didn’t resemble any word Ichigo knew. Maybe his brain broke, and he needed time to reconnect it.

“You… like me?”

“What? No!” Ichigo made a disgusted grimace. “What if I asked you if you like Inoue, Tatsuki or Hinamori?”

“I don’t like them!” Renji looked as shocked as Ichigo was.

“But you like girls.”

“Yes!”

“Well, that’s the same.” Ichigo snorted. “Rukia was the first one I told. Actually…” He massaged the back of his head because he was nervous and couldn’t stay without doing anything with his body. “…she’s the only one who knows. You’re the second one.”

That was definitely one of the worst ideas Ichigo had. Renji looked like he didn’t manage to elaborate that new piece of information; he was staring at him as if he had just told him a joke and was trying to make it sound believable. Renji was trying to look at the trap behind Ichigo’s revelation. But there was no trap at all.

“And why did you have to bring me here?”

Did he believe he wanted to jump on him? Ichigo didn’t want to think that way, but Renji wasn’t as close to him as he was before –Ichigo realized it a bit too late–, and he was speaking slowly.

“Because I didn’t want anyone to hear accidentally.” Ichigo paused. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Those words got through Renji and clicked something inside him. He spoke again. “No. I won’t… I mean, there’s no problem with it, right?”

“Renji, I mean it.” It sounded like an order and Ichigo felt an evil pleasure, mingled with the fear he had just ruined everything, when Renji nodded. “And Rukia doesn’t like me.” He concluded.

They stayed there for a while, one in front of the other looking everywhere but at each other. Ichigo glanced at the clock outside the shop.

“I have to go to work now.” He waited a bit. “Tell me if anything changes.”

“Yes, sure…” Renji didn’t sound convinced at all. “Be fine.” His voice sounded strange but Ichigo didn’t ask why: he could imagine the reason.

“See you, Renji.”

Ichigo walked away faster than he wanted to. He didn’t turn to look at Renji even once and slowed down the pace only when he was sure that Renji couldn’t see him anymore. Telling it wasn’t that difficult. Bearing Renji’s look was totally different. Ichigo didn’t know what he expected from his friend, but he didn’t know if he was so surprised that what he read on his face was disbelief and ( _disgust_ ) shock. Now, what did he have to do? Wait for Renji to write a message? Or write a message to him? How much time did he have to wait? He could have asked Rukia but Ichigo didn’t want to bother her. He didn’t want to trouble Renji anymore, and he felt he needed to handle the matter on his own; or else, he wouldn’t have managed to handle it with none of his friends. And his family.

When he stopped at a red signal, he realized his hands were trembling. Apart from that, from the outside he looked almost at ease at the eyes of distracted passer-byes; none of them looked at his face twisted in regret. Ichigo understood what Renji meant by changing things when the outcome could be either good or bad. In his case, it probably turned out bad.

A loud roar of an engine awakened him from the pitiful contemplation of the tar. Ichigo raised his head and a green and white motorcycle stopped in front of the signal with a screech or tires. It was a woman. Ichigo lost few seconds looking at her, while the other people were already crossing the road. The helmet covering her head was turned towards him; Ichigo jolted as she waved a hand at him and he found himself greeting back, but without her same energy. Then, she took off the helmet, uncovering a fall of green hair.

“Neliel.”

“Hello, Ichigo. I guess we know each other’s name without having introduced ourselves to each other.” The cars passed over her motorcycle, one of them pressed the hooter, but she ignored them. “Going to work?”

“Yes.”

Neliel got off the motorcycle with an agility that surprised Ichigo, as she was wearing skimpy trousers and jacket. From inside the seat, she took another helmet and threw it at Ichigo. He reacted just in time, but it almost slipped away from his hands and he had to grab it again.

“Jump in. I’ll give you a ride.”

“But–”

“Come on. I can’t stay here forever.”

She had already decided and Ichigo went along with her. He put on the helmet and got on the motorcycle. That was a first for him; he didn’t know where he had to put his feet or his hands. While he managed almost immediately to find a support for his feet, the hands…

“Put your arms around my waist.”

Neliel grabbed his wrists and forced his hands on her hips. He was close to her ( _too close!_ ) and his torso touched her back for an instant; Ichigo retreated as if Neliel’s back was covered in flames and maintained a short distance. However, when he heard the roar of the engine, he had the strange sensation his body would have stuck to hers, no matter what.

“Ready?”

Without waiting for an answer, Neliel gave power to the engine and left. The loud growl of the motorcycle filled Ichigo’s ears and he found himself pressed against Neliel despite his previous efforts. He didn’t realize immediately his hands slid from the hips to the stomach to have a stronger clench on her, and when he did, the wind around him and the waving of the vehicle didn’t give him any room to feel safe enough to go back to the previous position. It seemed like Neliel didn’t mind it.

“Are you fine?” Neliel’s voice, suffocated into the helmet, mixed with the wind and Ichigo barely heard it.

“Y-yes!”

The only thing Ichigo could think about without being dragged in the deep pit of regrets, the fear of being rubbed on the street or the embarrassment of holding onto a woman he barely knew was his rucksack: he hoped he closed it well, or else he had to go back to collect his belongings. The perspective wasn’t alluring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life goals: being Grimmjow with an open relationship with a cat.


	9. Life is not a movie or else it wouldn't be so strange

Ichigo couldn’t believe one day the view of the Sexta would have poured into him a benevolent sensation of relief. Or maybe was the contact of his feet with the solid street – meaning that, during the time he kept his eyes clenched, they didn’t smash against some cars or other motorcycles. The comfort of being the one controlling his movements and his own safety was a great advantage that Ichigo had always underestimated.

His legs felt like two strips of pudding, as if his muscles melted and there were only wobbling bones holding him in position, but he was firm enough to avoid any tremble or unsure step. So, he must have had it written on his face, because Neliel tilted her head and gave him such a puzzled look that she switched from the charming mature woman to the charming childish woman.

“Everything’s fine? I was slower than usual.” She sounded surprised.

“Ah, no… I think I’m late.”

“Oh, that’s because I took the longer route. I thought you would have liked the tour.” She bounced while walking towards the pub; her long wavy hair danced on her back. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk with Grimmjow.” She winked at him and Ichigo’s pale face gained some color on the cheeks.

Ichigo entered right after her. As Neliel spotted Grimmjow, her face discarded every trace of the naïve but gentle woman, and the self-confident adult appeared. Both her look and pose changed; her fingers weren’t anymore intertwined behind her back, she crossed her arms and raised her chin to give Grimmjow the noblest of the glances Ichigo had ever seen.

“Hey, Grimmjow.”

Grimmjow’s frown deepened and he snorted from the nostrils. “Nel, what the fuck?”

Those two were lovers in a past that Ichigo didn’t know how much far was. However, looking at them, the thought of them having a relationship seemed too bizarre to be real. What he was looking at didn’t seem like an interaction between ex-lovers, but a sort of friendship very similar to a brotherly relationship. Because Neliel was glaring at Grimmjow, however she didn’t seem to hate him: Ichigo thought it was a temporary disappointment. While Grimmjow was pissed off, but not as pissed off as he was when Luppi was nearby – Grimmjow always looked pissed off. Ichigo believed he only had different degrees of _pissed off_ and with Nel he was at an acceptable level.

Neliel tended her arm towards him, the palm of the hand upwards and in wait to receive something.

“I need the car.”

“Why don’t you use Tier’s?” Despite the snarl, Grimmjow put the right hand in the pocket of his trousers. “Scrounger.” He threw the keys at her. Neliel caught them casually; she raised her hand as if she wanted to adjust her bangs and the keys fell directly into her grasp.

“Says the one who consumed the wheels of my motorcycle.”

“It’s not like I can use it now.”

“By the way, I settled it for next month.”

“Geez, I know. You flooded the chat with messages.”

“Well, I arranged everything.” Neliel swung her hand in front of her face like a fan. “It’s hot in here.”

She acted as if there weren’t some men in her same place (Yylfordt was minding his business behind the counter but had one ear ready to catch anything juicy enough to be worth of consideration) and unzipped her tight jacket. Nothing unusual, if only there wasn’t so much skin revealing centimeter by centimeter as the zip run down her chest. She had nothing but the bra underneath and opened the jacket till her navel. Ichigo looked away and pretended he was focused on going and get changed before his shift. However, Neliel was sharper than she pretended to be, because she called him.

“Ichigo, something’s wrong?” Ichigo -he cursed that instinct- turned his head as he heard his name. He thanked some random god that she didn’t totally opened the jacket, but he saw enough skin to realize she probably only had her bra behind.

“Uhm… isn’t cold without a t-shirt?”

“Oh, you’re worried about me?” She smiled softly and proudly bended her arm as to show her biceps. “I’m strong. Last time I had a cold I was eleven.”

“…I see.”

Grimmjow interrupted them. “You’re late.”

Neliel frowned. “Me?”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “Kurosaki!”

Ichigo jolted when he heard his surname, even if Grimmjow wasn’t directly calling him. His cheeks were still burning because of Nel’s skin, and he was sure a burning color invaded his face.

“Oh, yes…” Neliel acted as if that wasn’t important. “It’s my fault.”

Grimmjow clicked his tongue. “What do you want?”

“I came to check on you because you never reply at the mobile.”

“What? I’ve never received–” Grimmjow took the mobile from his right pocket. “–anything.” He gave a quick glance to the notifications telling him he had more than ten lost calls and some messages, all from Neliel.

“You forgot to turn on the volume again.” Neliel sighed. She gave Ichigo the impression she was dealing with a child (she didn’t quite stand), so she was forced to bear tons of patience while striking Grimmjow with haughty disappointed glares. “I shouldn’t care anymore.”

“Then why you keep bothering me?”

“Because you’re hopeless on your own.”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “What do you want? I have some work to do.”

Ichigo saw the quick glance Neliel gave him and Yylfordt. “Let’s go up and offer me something to drink.”

“Excuse me your majesty. If I had known the royal queen of assholes were to visit, I would have put a fucking red carpet outside.”

“I want peach juice.”

Grimmjow snorted but bended his right index twice, signing Neliel to follow him and they took the stairs.

When Di Roy arrived with Shawlong, about fifteen minutes later, they hadn’t returned yet.

Di Roy had many plastic bags hanging from both arms and a rucksack on his back balancing the weight. His cheeks were bright red and the t-shirt under the jacket had huge stains of sweat. Shawlong, who was holding an almost empty bag, walked in as light as a leave and he managed to not make a single noise with his shoes. But probably it was because Di Roy’s pants were louder than their voices.

“Next time…” Di Roy exhaled. “…I swear…”

“If you keep losing at rock, paper, scissors, the outcome will be the same.” Shawlong smirked. “Oh, hello Ichigo.”

“Heya.” Ichigo tilted his head. “Di Roy, you need a hand?”

“Me?” He huffed. “Nah… I can bring all… these bags by myself–OF COURSE I NEED HELP YOU BLIND!!!” The effort he made to yell took away the little breath he had and Ichigo took as many bags as possible from him before he collapsed.

As he brought them in the kitchen and went back, Shawlong had already a cup of steaming hot tea on the table and he was reading a newspaper. Ichigo frowned.

“Hey, give us a hand, would you?”

“Why? You’re both doing a splendid job.”

Di Roy was in the lockers, almost collapsed with Nakeem who was trying to revive him with some water.

“I thought the goods were delivered directly here.”

“We changed supplier but the new one can only start from tomorrow.”

“Why did we change? The products seemed good.”

“He tried to trick us on the prices. More than once.”

“Oh…”

In that moment, Grimmjow and Neliel came back.

“–this means you basically have no chances.” She said as she descended the last step.

Grimmjow turned towards her so fast that Neliel, for the first time since Ichigo had known her, was surprised and discarded her composed attitude for a while, looking genuinely concerned.

“I know.” Grimmjow was calm; he sounded almost exhausted. “I’ve known I had no chances since I realized my left shoulder and arm were fucked up. But at least that bastard spent the last two years spending his money and having one more trouble on _his_ shoulders. Not enough, but whatever…” He was somber, pissed off. “Now disappear. I have this fucking place to open and the new supplier fucked up with the delivers.”

“I see.” She sighed. “Well, I’ll leave the bike at your place, Grimmjow, and come and fetch you at the end of your shift. I’ll drop by you tonight.”

“Yes, as always.”

“I don’t want to bother looking for somewhere to sleep only for a night.” She explained as if that was obvious. She sounded a bit conceited and shifted back at treating Grimmjow as if he was an idiot who needed everything to be explained.

“Last time you dropped by for almost a week.”

“Tomorrow I’ll go back to Tier.” Then she did something that surprised Ichigo and caught Grimmjow off guard: she kissed him. Her lips softly pressed on his for an instant, a slight silent contact. Normal like leaning a hand on the shoulder or nudging the elbow. “Be careful and don’t overdo it.”

“I know what to do.”

Neliel chuckled and turned to Shawlong; her hair swirled around her and some locks fell on her chest. “Take care of him when I’m not here.”

“As always.”

“Geez, I can take care of myself!”

Shawlong didn’t listen to him and replied to Neliel. “I’ll do it Nel, don’t worry.”

“See you tonight then, Grimmjow.” The keys produced a clear noise as Neliel shook them. “Bye, Ichigo!” Her voice was again cheerful as she greeted Ichigo, who suddenly remembered his legs were numb because of the breathless ride. He sat down when Neliel closed the door behind her.

The conversation with Renji seemed to belong to another time. Ichigo felt like they talked many days before and not instead of barely half an hour; he couldn’t decide if that made him feel better or not, but at least he had the work waiting for him and for some hours he wouldn’t have had much time to reflect on the matter.

“Get up. It’s time to work.” Grimmjow promptly snarled at him and Ichigo jumped on his feet.

“Don’t turn on me if you’re bothered.” He said back.

However, Grimmjow didn’t seem bothered. Embarrassed, maybe?

“Tch. Wipe that long face before the shift starts.”

Ichigo frowned. “I haven’t a long face.”

Of course, he had. And, of course, he wasn’t good enough to hide it.

It had been more than a week since when Ichigo talked with Renji and he didn’t receive a single message from him. Ichigo thought about contacting him more than once, but every single time he erased the simple _Hiya, Renji_ that took him may minutes to digit. Not receiving any message out of the blue was better than the perspective of not receiving any reply.

So, he ended up checking his mobile more than he was used to. Orihime noticed it.

“How strange, Kurosaki-kun.” She said during the break. Her lunch was a bread which seemed bigger than her stomach, but everyone knew she would have eaten all of it anyway.

“What?” Ichigo raised his head from the screen: Renji’s last message dated back to two weeks before.

“Are you waiting for a call?” As she said it, a sudden blush covered her cheeks and she fretted. “Not that I want to stick my nose into your business! But you’ve been this serious look for few days and just was curious, he he…” She tried to lighten the mood with a small laugh. Yet, she was too nervous under Ichigo’s look, despite he was only showing a slight puzzlement to her reaction.

“Everything’s fine. Sometimes the work is tiresome, that’s all.”

“I see. Then, you should relax a bit.” She rustled inside her school bag. “Ta-da!” She took out some paper rectangles opened into her hands like the tail of a peacock. “My brother got these cinema tickets we can use for whatever movie we want to watch! Today is the deadline, so I thought we could go together.” She blushed at her own words. “I mean together with everyone else. Not alone me and you as in a date! He he…” She fidgeted again and touched her hair restlessly. “I asked Tatsuki-chan but she is busy with the club, so I thought I could ask you. Not that you are a second choice, Kurosaki-kun!”

While Orihime was believing she was digging her grave with her very own hands, and at a remarkable speed, Ichigo couldn’t get all the problems she was creating. He didn’t think that was a date nor that he was a second choice to her: Orihime and Tatsuki were best friends, it was obvious that she would have asked her first.

Before Ichigo could say anything, Keigo appeared behind Orihime and spied over her shoulder.

“Oh, are those cinema tickets for _Bad Shield II_?”

“Asano-kun.” Orihime smiled at him. “Yup! My brother gave them to me!” She showed them proudly. “Do you want to come too?”

“Sure! I loved the first part! And Ichigo said he liked it!”

A ray of hope bloomed inside Orihime’s chest at those words. However, Ichigo’s frown suppressed it before it could ignite her happiness.

“Did I? I don’t remember watching it.”

“What?! But you said it!”

“ _Bad Shield II_?”  Mizuiro popped out of nowhere, scaring Keigo. “I want to watch it too. They say the main characters dies.”

Keigo’s jaw dropped. “What?!”

Orihime made an overly-surprised face, an exaggeration that wasn’t make up but showed the exact extent of her feeling. “Incredible! It’s destiny, we have to go today!” She turned to Ichigo as she finished speaking. Her enthusiasm slammed against him like an invisible but tangible force and Ichigo instinctively bended back against the chair.

“Uh, uhm, sure. Why not?” He paused. “Unfortunately, Chad today is helping the boxing club and he cannot come.”

“What a pity…” Orihime sighed and touched her hair again. “But we can ask Ishida!”

“He doesn’t seem someone fond of this kind of movies. It’s an action movie, isn’t it?”

Ichigo commented. And he was wrong. Against his beliefs, Ishida not only liked action movies, but also seemed to be looking forward watching _Bad Shield II_.

“I’ve never thought you knew it, Ishida.” Orihime commented. “But I’m glad. The more, the merrier!”

Ichigo was walking in between them and Orihime had to bend forward a bit to look at Ishida. As she did it, Orihime touched her hair again; only the tip of the fingers slightly scratching the surface.

“Inoue.” As Ichigo called her name, she jolted a bit. “Do you have a problem with your hair? You’ve been touching them since this morning.”

“Ah no.” Orihime run the fingers inside her hair. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you should check. There were lice in my sisters’ school last month.”

Orihime’s face turned into a shocked one. But she wasn’t shocked because of Ichigo’s innocent insinuation. She was too happy that Ichigo looked at her to notice that new habit she didn’t know she acquired to reflect on what he actually implied.

“Really?! That’s bad!”

Ishida coughed, while Mizuiro, who was talking with Keigo, sneaked into the conversation. “Ichigo, you don’t ask women if they have lice.” He explained patiently.

“You surely have experience with women.” Keigo pointed out. “That’s unfair!”

Mizuiro deadpanned him and made the victory sign with his right index and middle finger. “Yup.”

“Mizuiro is right, Kurosaki.” Ishida pointed out. “There are some things you can’t casually ask to girls.”

Ichigo frowned. “I didn’t ask something personal to her, did I?” He sounded pissed off.

“How dumb.” Ishida ignored Ichigo’s snarl. “I guess Inoue keeps checking if her hairpins are still there. They seem new, am I right, Inoue?”

“New?” Ichigo looked at her. She blushed but couldn’t look away and stiffened under his silent gaze. “I didn’t notice you put the hairpins.” Orihime expected something else (her prohibited desire was a compliment) and her sad disappointment immediately showed on her face. “Uh, something’s wrong?”

“No, not at all…”

Ishida walked in front of Ichigo. “Inoue, you should cross a common hairpin with yours. This way they will hardly fall.”

“Oh, I see! I haven’t thought about that! But unfortunately I don’t have any with me at the moment.”

Nobody expected Ishida to have hairpins inside his pockets. Ichigo, Mizuiro and Keigo glanced at one another.

Keigo shook his head. “I have so many things I’d like to ask now… why do you have hairpins with you?”

Ishida adjusted his glasses. “It’s just common sense.”

“…what common sense?”

“Then I guess I lack some.” Orihime commented with a chuckle. “He he.”

“Actually, sometimes they come in handy when I sew.”

They started talking together about sewing. Ichigo slowed his pace down enough to side with Mizuiro and Keigo.

“They get along, huh?” Keigo commented. “You would never tell they both belong to the sewing club. Especially Ishida. He has this _science club_ yelling from every part of him.”

“Ishida notices the small details.” Ichigo shrugged. “I guess that’s why he noticed Inoue’s hairpins and is good at sewing.” Both Keigo and Mizuiro glanced at him. He looked at both. “What’s wrong?”

“Uhm, I don’t really know how to tell you…” Keigo began, but Mizuiro used his hesitation to finish.

“Ishida noticed because he always looks at Inoue.” He explained. “He likes her.”

“…what?”

Keigo nodded. “Sometimes it seems you’re in your own world, Ichigo. You’re the only one who didn’t notice. And Inoue.”

“And if Keigo noticed, everyone should have by now.” Mizuiro pointed out gaining an angered “Hey!” from his friend.

Ichigo looked at Orihime and Ishida’s backs. She said something and laughed; he nodded with a serious look: it didn’t seem like he liked her. But, of course, he was the one who was surprised by Renji.

Before they entered the cinema, he checked the mobile. Only a quick look which was enough to spot the red dot which signaled the presence of a new message. His heart skipped a beat and he took a better glance, only to be disappointed when he saw it was his father’s.

Ichigo exited the cinema and the sharp light of the sunset dazed him. He covered his eyes. Behind him, the excited chatting of his friends grew in intensity as they stepped out.

“The main actor was really cool!” Orihime remarked for the third time. “I think he resembles you a bit, Kurosaki-kun.”

“What? Really?”

“I don’t think so.” Ishida commented. “He was too cool.”

“I heard you, Ishida.”

“I know.”

Mizuiro talked over Keigo, who was complaining because Mizuiro spoiled the death of the main actor (but nobody else seemed to care). “Did you like the movie, Ichigo?”

Ichigo shrugged. “It wasn’t bad. Even if the plot seemed quite forced to me towards the e–”

Orihime didn’t let Ichigo finish. “Then you liked it?” Her eyes sparkled and Ichigo didn’t feel like telling her he had seen better movies.

“Yes. It was… nice.”

That not-so-convinced _nice_ was more than enough for her. “I’m glad!”

“Hey!” Keigo managed to take the attention on him raising his voice. “How about an ice cream?”

Mizuiro didn’t let the chance slip by to mock him. “It’s a good idea. Strange it came from you.”

“I can’t.” Everyone turned to look at Ichigo. “My old man gave me an errand to do.”

“I see…” Mizuiro glanced distractedly at his mobile. “I guess I’ll go home too.”

Keigo jolted. “What? You said it was a good idea!”

“I changed my mind. I actually have some stuff to do.” He replied as if he didn’t care. “We’ll meet tomorrow at school.”

Ichigo nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

He left first and Orihime waved her hand at him until he disappeared around the corner. Mizuiro went home and Keigo decided to go with him. Ishida was left with Orihime.

“Inoue…” He adjusted his glasses. “…I think we can get an ice cream even if it’s only the two of us.”

“Sure!”

That sudden and energic agreement was unexpected. Ishida thought that without Ichigo, Orihime would have gone home. Instead, she accepted and didn’t seem disappointed that he was her ice-cream partner. So, it took him a while to find again the words.

“I… I know a nice place nearby.”

“Let’s go then!”

Orihime touched his elbow and her arm slipped around Ishida’s; it was like a child who couldn’t contain her emotion and hold onto the closest adult to. Ishida found himself dragged down along the way. The wrong way and they had to go back, but Ishida noticed only after three crossroads.

Ichigo run back home. As he opened the door, the delicious aroma of Karin’s cooking invaded his senses and awakened his stomach.

“Ichi-nii!” He heard her chirping. “Is it you?”

“Yes. But I’m leaving right away.”

He walked towards the door which brought to the clinic when Yuzu stuck out from the kitchen’s door. “If you’re looking for dad’s bag, I brought it here on the table.” She went back to the stoves and Ichigo found her busy putting some food in a lacquered box. At his puzzled glance, she explained. “Dad said he would be back home late tonight, so I prepared him a bento.”

“Nice idea.”

“I only have to close it and it’ll be ready.”

Ichigo looked at his sister longer than he used to. He inspected every visible centimeter of skin, from the legs to her neck. He only saw a band aid on the left hand that didn’t alarm him much.

“Ta-da!”

Yuzu turned with the bento in her hands, wrapped into a cute pink towel patterned with green hearts. She showed her with evident pride.

“Nice, Yuzu.” Ichigo patted her head and took the bento from the edges over the knot. He was about to go to the table and grab his father’s bag when he came back and gave her a kiss on the temple. “Everything’s fine?”

She nodded. “Yes, it is.”

Ichigo didn’t need any effort to detect lies when it came to Yuzu: she was always sincere and couldn’t hide anything. He smiled. “If anything occurs, tell me.”

“Okay. But you too.”

“Huh?”

Yuzu looked directly into his eyes. “Lately you’ve been acting strange. I don’t know how strange, but strange.” Pause. “Everything’s fine, Ichi-nii?”

Ichigo opened his mouth and the usual answer “I’m fine” was ready on the tip of his tongue. But Yuzu was looking at him with her big eyes; she knew the answer already but wanted to hear it from him. She trusted him, and the words died before finding the way out. Ichigo shook his head.

“It could be better, but I’m hanging on.”

“School?”

“More or less.”

They looked at each other and didn’t know what to say anymore.

“Uhm, where’s Karin?”

“She’s at the soccer club. She’ll be back soon.”

“Sorry to leave you alone.” Ichigo grabbed the bag. It was heavier than it looked and he wondered what his dad put in there, apart from a change of clothes, to weigh that much. “I’ll be fast and be back right for dinner.”

“Okay!” She smiled. “On the way back home buy some ketchup please. I’m doing homemade hamburger and forgot we finished it.”

“Got it.”

Ichigo tended his hand to ruffle Yuzu’s hair, but she avoided him.

“No touching hair in the kitchen! Especially the chef’s!” She chuckled.

“I see no chef here.” He was fast at grabbing one piece of omelet and putting it into his mouth before leaving. “See you later.” He munched the words together with the food.

“Then you’ll have no hamburgers tonight but only boiled vegetables!” She stuck her tongue out. But Ichigo would have received one bonus hamburger for dinner.

Now he wasn’t thinking about dinner. He was focused on reaching the hospital as fast as possible. When he passed near the bus stop, the vehicle was about to close its doors. Ichigo hadn’t planned on taking the bus, but as he saw the chance he dashed forward and threw himself inside right before he was left out.

The scent coming from the bento teased him during all the way and Ichigo was more than happy when he got off at his stop and walked inside the hospital. It was the end of May and the weather was mildly warm, perfect to be out; nonetheless, entering the refreshing conditioned hospital made him feel slightly better. He walked along the familiar corridors without looking at the labels, as he knew the path to the surgical ward, and spotted his father climbing a stair two steps at a time.

“Dad!” He called him. “I brought you the bag.”

Isshin turned to him and smiled. But his smile was weak and didn’t last long; he didn’t even try to hug Ichigo, as he was used to do whenever he saw him. Now that he was closer, Ichigo noticed the circles around his eyes and the rides on the forehead looked deeper.

“Thank you, Ichigo. They called all of a sudden.”

“Everything’s fine?”

“Not really. I think I’ll be back home later than I told Yuzu.”

“She suspected it.” Ichigo shoved the bento on his hands. “Here. She prepared it for you.”

“Oh! My beloved daughter thinks about her father!” Isshind didn’t put the usual energy in his praise. “Karin?”

“She’s at soccer practice.”

“Nice, nice. I have to go now.” Isshin patted on Ichigo’s shoulder. “Everything’s fine, Ichigo?”

“Yes.” Ichigo replied fast. “Everything’s as usual.” He let his father ruffle his hair but adjusted them as he walked back to the ward.

Ichigo took the way to the entrance. Near a group of vending machines, he saw the head of the hospital, Unohana Retsu, speaking with a doctor, a tall girl with short hair. Ichigo didn’t know her but met Unohana more than once; she was a friend of his father. Unohana saw him and slightly nodded closing his eyes towards him in a silent greeting; she was holding a steaming cup with both hands, one under the cup and another around it, in an old-fashioned manner. Calm and collected, always composed in whatever she was doing, Unohana seemed to belong to another time. The doctor she was speaking with turned to Ichigo and, at a first glance, she seemed good-natured. Ichigo moved his right hand to greet Unohana and walked past the vending machines.

At the entrance, he spotted Grimmjow. He was alone and hold a white folder under his right arm. If he wasn’t giving Ichigo his back, he would have noticed him, but he didn’t and kept his eyes on the mobile.

Ichigo didn’t know what to do and he just stayed there until he heard his own mobile ringing once inside his pocket. The vibration against the leg awakened him from the indecision and he grabbed it. The shock of reading the name on the screen froze his brain for a moment.

_ Renji _ _ _

If there wasn’t the message preview on the screen, Ichigo would have hesitated to open it, wondering what Renji could have written. But his eyes caught the most interesting part of it _“Let’s meet up”_ and didn’t wait to tap on the screen.

_ “Yo, Ichigo. Let’s meet up at the usual spot tomorrow, okay?” _

Ichigo didn’t know what feeling was pressing inside his stomach. Fear, relief or doubt. Maybe all of those were tingling his mind, but that couldn’t deny the fact that Renji had just sent him a message. He wrote back.

_ “Okay. I’ll be there after school.” _

When he raised his head, Grimmjow wasn’t there anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orihime inviting people at the cinema for the part 2 of a movie without knowing if they have seen part 1. Bless her.


	10. Secure a net if you dance on a rope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god.

The usual café Renji mentioned wasn’t the usual café. When Ichigo reached it and there was no one, he texted him and received his current position. On the screen, Ichigo didn’t realized he already knew that place, so, when he finally recognized the area, he believed Renji went nuts. He stood in front of the _Dollhouse_ –the stuffed rabbits looking from the windows were creepy– wondering how someone could even think about creating something similar.

“Renji, what the fuck?”

It was the strangest view Ichigo had ever witnessed: a full-grown adult with long red hair, covered in tattoos and wearing a jeans jacket walking outside a charming little front door (he had to bend his head a bit) colored in white and set on a pink wall. Ichigo wanted to laugh, but he was too disgusted, so he just looked at Renji with empty eyes.

Renji looked at him without saying anything, looking cool and unfazed despite being in that sort of place that didn’t suit him. “Ichigo. Why are you standing there? Come in.”

“Renji… why the hell this place?”

“Don’t give me that look!” Ichigo’s remark broke through the mask and Renji blushed. He scratched his cheek. “I-it was Rukia who said you liked this place, so…”

Ichigo lost it. “And you believed her?! Do you really think I could like such a place?!”

“Hey, calm down you idiot!” Renji snarled back. “I was unsure, but she was too convincing!” He massaged his head. “I thought that since… you know…” Despite he didn’t manage to find the right words, Ichigo more or less got what he was thinking about. And it pissed him off.

“Just because I have… those interest, it doesn’t mean that all of a sudden I like pink and frilly stuff! You’re an idiot, Renji!”

“Say it again–ouf!”

Someone pushed Renji from behind, throwing him outside. Framed by the frilly door, the waitress with magenta hair faced them fiercely, both hands on her hips.

“If you want to argue, go somewhere else. This is a door, not your personal chatting spot! People walk in and out though here, move!”

She was much shorter than them, but her voice was enough to put them in line. Renji looked quite embarrassed, Ichigo just nodded.

“You’re right, sorry for bothering you.” He smiled and walked past her, following Renji. The slight blush coloring her cheeks passed unnoticed.

Rukia was waiting for them at a table near the window. She had already taken a stuffed toy, put it on her lap and was gently rubbing the long rabbit ears; more than a woman who was entering adulthood, she resembled a child happily playing. Glimmering eyes and cute expressions made Rukia seem younger than she was. However, as she realized Ichigo and Renji were there, Rukia switched to the firm and severe behavior she showed most of the time: her eyes sharpened, and she resembled more the mature woman she was. Yet, she didn’t let go of the rabbit on her lap.

“Ichigo, you’re late!”

“Well, this isn’t the usual place I hang with Renji.”

“I know. He is the idiot who didn’t tell you the place immediately.” She ignored the glare and sighed. “You two have awful tastes. My brother likes the aesthetic of this place.” A smile softened her face.

“Your brother aesthetic makes no sense like yours.”

That insult hit Rukia deep inside. Indignation exploded into her eyes and poured on her face. “You fool! I don’t take such remarks from someone who doesn’t know the Chappy brand! Even Renji knows it!”

Renji hurried to shake his head at Ichigo’s glance. “I know it only because of her… trust me.” He muttered. But he didn’t meet Ichigo’s understanding.

“I’m not sure I could trust you anymore, Renji…”

“What?!”

Rukia sighed. “Come on, sit down. You’re bothering the clients.”

“We are, huh?”

Ichigo couldn’t explain how everything seemed back to normal. When he saw Renji, for an instant, behind the layers of disgust for that place, his stomach clenched. But when he talked to him as if nothing happened, as if he didn’t remember or care about that, Ichigo somehow relaxed and pretended as well that nothing happened.

Rukia brought him back to the harsh reality as he sat down. A single blow dealt directly behind his head, the sharp pain exploded reaching his temples.

“What the hell was that for?!”

“Renji has already received his share.” Rukia was unimpressed by the threatening glare. “You two are the dumbest couple of fools I’ve ever met.”

Renji didn’t react as bad as Ichigo, he didn’t frown nor snarl. Ichigo thought he was so calm because she had already given him the same talk. For some reason, Ichigo was mad. Not at her, but at himself, because he didn’t manage to adjust the matter on his own.

“I told you, Rukia.” Renji started. “I wanted to wait for him to contact me again, I didn’t want to bother him or look like I was forcing him. I kinda reacted bad at first but…”

“That’s my point.” Ichigo’s voice was sharper than his. “I felt like you didn’t want to talk about it, so I was waiting for you to write back.”

“But I thought you wanted some time!”

“Some time for what? You needed time to elaborate it, not me!”

Rukia sighed. “Your brains don’t need much time to elaborate. They’re too small.”

“I would have contacted him sooner or later.” Ichigo clenched his teeth as she gave him a hopeless look. “I mean it! You know it’s not that simple!”

“I admit Renji was the one most at fault…” She ignored Renji’s disappointed _Hey!_ and kept talking. “…but waiting for things to adjust on their own is like waiting for the plumber to arrive without calling them.”

The comparison was so bizarre that Ichigo froze for an instant, his face showing a dumb sense of surprise. “That… that is a pretty specific metaphor. What happened?”

Rukia looked at the stuffed rabbit with a serious expression. She patted it on the head and thumped it on her legs, settling the beginning of her confession. “In defense of my brother, I have to say it’s unforgivable the hydric company doesn’t have an automatic system which advises the plumbers whenever there’s a problem.”

“…there’s nothing to defend here…”

“How rude, Ichigo! My brother knows how to live without anyone helping him!”

Ichigo hardly doubted it.

“Yes.” Renji nodded. “Uhm, he’s doing his best.”

Instead of making things better, Renji worsened them, but it was too late. Rukia glared at him. “Renji, you didn’t sound that confident.”

He glared back. “Hey, I agreed with you!”

Ichigo sighed. “How about stop romanticizing Byakuya and face reality instead?”

The arrival of the waitress prevented any reply from Rukia. When she went away (Ichigo didn’t notice her quick glances towards him even once), a strange silence fell. Rukia was still looking at the menu, as if the huge cup he had just ordered wasn’t enough to satisfy her, while Renji seemed interested in whatever angle of the café that was far enough from Ichigo.

“Renji, you got a stiff neck?”

“Eh, no.”

“Then why you keep doing that?”

“That what?”

“Looking right and left.”

Rukia leaned the face on the palm of the hand: Ichigo was so oblivious she couldn’t almost believe it. Almost.

Renji looked at Ichigo. He didn’t speak at first, his eyes darted aside as he let out a small cough. He was filling the gap of silence with small gestures which only irritated Ichigo.

“If you have nothing to say, whatever.”

“No, wait!” Renji blurt out before Ichigo could hid himself behind the menu. “I didn’t expect what you told me, that day… and probably I overreacted a bit, I admit it. I cannot really know how to put this…” He massaged his neck. From time to time, he glanced elsewhere, as if he couldn’t bear Ichigo’s gaze for too long. “I feel like–”

“Shut up Renji.” Ichigo deadpanned him. “You’re too far for an headbutt.”

“What?! Here I’m trying to apologize properly! Don’t interrupt me!”

“You’re talking too much, Renji. I got it, there’s no need for you trying to say more.” Ichigo sounded as if he wanted to discard that conversation but looked at Renji and turned serious. “Even if you find the right words, I’d forget them right away. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t made up your mind.” He crossed his arms. “End of the story.”

“That’s not the end of the story! Let other people finish talking!” Renji was talking aloud and spotted a couple of girls glancing at him. He lowered his voice. “Or are you so stupid that you wouldn’t get what I have to say, huh?”

He smirked as Ichigo’s eyebrows twitched. “Who would be the stupid? You’re the one talking!”

“Says the stupid who would forget right away.”

“I was just saying that to make your little brain feel at ease!”

“Little brain?!”

From one extreme to the other. From barely looking at each other for more than a handful of seconds to glaring at each other almost without blinking. Rukia put an end to that conversation. She punched them both in the head at the same time; then, showing an evident satisfaction, she crossed her arms against the chest, calm and collected “Our order is arriving.” She didn’t mind the glares coming from the boys but looked at the huge cup on the tray with glimmering eyes. “The special bunny explosion cup!”

“The name doesn’t sound appealing…” Renji nodded at Ichigo’s words.

“I won’t lose time anymore putting some aesthetic into that rock head of yours.” Her words cut the air like razors, however there was a hint of happiness inside.

The cup was a mix of fruits and many little replicas of fluffy bunnies made with milk cream and chocolate placed on the whirling white sweet road of whipped cream topping the whole composition. Rukia took many pictures before stopping and staring at it: both elbows on the table, the nose so close that it almost kissed one of the fake bunnies.

“Eat it before it melts.” Renji scolded her.

“But… it’s so cute. I just can’t.”

“Then what’s the point in ordering it?”

“Renji, I don’t expect you to understand it. After all, you haven’t a knack for art at all.”

“Like your drawings?”

If a glance could kill, Renji would have been already buried ten meters under the soil.

Renji liked Rukia, Ichigo recalled. Looking at them, Ichigo just couldn’t grasp the feeling: they looked like old friends talking and arguing, but never getting so far from each other that they stopped caring. Like Orihime and Tatsuki, or Keigo and Mizuiro. Everything seemed back to normal. Yet, Ichigo knew Renji liked Rukia more than a friend, and Renji knew that Ichigo’s sexual interests weren’t the same as his. Something slightly changed, but everything was the same: Rukia and Renji arguing over something trivial, Rukia barely listening to Renji only to throw her frustration at Ichigo, who awakened from his silent contemplation.

“What you have to say, Ichigo? I am right, aren’t I?”

That sounded more like an order from Rukia; Renji’s face was pissed off enough to scare a child. Ichigo raised both hands.

“Don’t drag me into this. I don’t want to meddle.”

Renji snorted. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

“Absolutely not.” Ichigo didn’t sugarcoat the truth, nor tried to defend himself.

“You have the concentration of a hamster, Ichigo.” Rukia finally managed to sink the spoon into the cup and caught a strawberry and a blueberry with some cream; she was careful not to _kill_ the bunnies.

“What kind of comparison is that?”

“Well, my brother bought a hamster the other day, and–”

“I’ll stop you there. I don’t want to know why Byakuya decided to buy a hamster.”

Probably nothing really changed. There was just something that had always been there and sprouted without breaking anything. Because it already had its place, but nobody had never noticed.

If Ichigo found an almost decent balance in his life which allowed him to move around without a slightly less stress of destroying everything at the first false step and falling into the void, Ginjou had just thrown himself on the balance pan without checking if there was enough weight on the other side.

He was good a planning, that was the quality which helped him more than once to conclude his cases (almost) unscathed. However, the downside was his tendency on feasting over the anger and grudge of whoever he had to bring down in the mud for money – a tendency that his employers loved, because most of them only wanted to witness the sufferance of those they despised. Wives who wanted to find the slightest spot on the lives of their ex-husbands only to walk on them with high heels, and husbands who craved to destroy the wives who asked for a divorce were most of his clients. However, sometimes he also got jobs from lawyers looking for evidence, may the clients be in the right or in the wrong. As long as he received his share of money, Ginjou didn’t mind who he made suffer with his actions.

But, he thought lying on his sofa with a bag of ice on his right wrist, in the end everything was a wheel and from time to time he had to fall too. That time, he didn’t fall so well and risked falling directly into a knife if it wasn’t for a lucky fluke. He pissed off the wrong people and, if it weren’t for Kaien who kept an eye on his work due to what he called an intuition, he probably would have ended up in a hospital. Or into a coffin.

He came out of that awful situation alive with some cuts, a sprained wrist and a bothersome headache which had been keeping him company for some days At least, he managed to finish the job. Not good, nor bad. He was alive and almost safe. It could have been worse; Tsukishima’s eyes were saying it.

“You need some water.”

Ginjou shook his head. “I want some beer.”

“Won’t you have plenty of it tonight?”

“Tonight?” He raised his head and put it down, a normal movement which costed him an itch of pain into his temples. “Ah, yes, it was tonight.” He paused. “You’ll come too.”

“Of course.”

Tsukishima was sitting in the armchair, reading a book. Ginjou always found incredible how Tsukishima could focus on more than two things and yet taking the best he could from each task: getting the plot of a book while being seriously involved in a conversation and checking the news on the mobile.

“We’re going to the place where Ichigo works.” Tsukishima pointed out. “Such an incredible coincidence.”

“Not at all if you consider that Kaien wants to go. That Kensei guy just invited me too.”

“The more, the merrier…” When Tsukishima closed his book, Ginjou knew that the conversation was falling into a much serious mood. He didn’t know if he was ready, so he sat down and grabbed the box of the painkillers. The pill slipped down his throat with a single gulp, without water. “Ginjou, are you still interested in Ichigo?”

“Mh… not that much.” Ginjou licked his lips. He felt the throat dry and grabbed the bottle of water near the sofa. “He was interesting back then, being young and gullible. It was fun watching him walking on the palm of my hand, despite he believed he wasn’t.” He shrugged. “Now he doesn’t trust me. Natural.”

“I see.”

Ginjou glanced at Tsukishima. His head was pulsating, but he could read his emotions. “Are you jealous?”

“What if I am?” Tsukishima checked the mobile once before looking again at him. “You had your fun without me.”

“I was drunk, and it wasn’t anything spectacular. After that, he stopped looking for me.” Ginjou leaned back on the sofa, feeling slightly better with the head against something soft. “Now he has another adult he lusts after.”

“He wasn’t exactly lusting after you.”

“Teenage hormones.”

Tsukishima smirked. “Are you jealous?”

Ginjou looked at the ceiling. “Pfff, of course I’m not.” He grabbed the cover hanging from the backseat and covered himself till the face: he felt like his eyes were hurting less. Or maybe it was the painkiller which was starting to get in circle inside his body. Was it too early or not? How much did it take? He should have checked on the box or could just ask Tsukishima. However, when he opened his mouth, he only said. “Wake me up when it’s time to go.”

And Tsukishima did.

Ginjou woke up feeling that he needed to sleep until the following morning instead of dragging himself to the pub. But at least the headache disappeared and only the itchiness of the patches all over his body and the pain from the wrist remained. He could live with those, as long as his head was working. However, his hand meant no motorcycle, so he had to bear with sitting next to Tsukishima into his car; Ginjou turned the air conditioner on, Tsukishima turned it off.

“Hey!”

“You’re not in health.” His slight smirk made him look older than he was. “Keep your strengths for tonight.”

“Don’t talk as if you’re my father. I know what’s best for me.”

“And I know what’s best for me. I don’t want to bear you with a headache.”

Ginjou sighed. “Yes, dad.”

“Aren’t you the old one?”

“Today you’re pretty talkative, aren’t you?”

“Nh, as usual.” Tsukishima stopped at a red light and looked at Ginjou. “You’re still thinking about Ichigo.”

“What makes think you so?”

“I know you checked on him more than you should have.”

“I only met him by chance once. I was wounded.”

“I’m not talking only about that moment.” He paused. “You could have called me.” Tsukishima wasn’t disturbed, he was almost amused. Despite being devoted to Ginjou, he’d never let a chance to pour salt on his wounds slip by. “You did only when he left. You thought he would have stayed of his own will?”

Ginjou was tired and stuffed with too many medicines to find a way to avoid that question. “Maybe. But I knew he wouldn’t have. I probably pulled too much the strings the first time.”

“I admit I expected him to be influenced much more by your return...”

“It’s green.”

Tsukishima passed over the crossroad. “…do you think it’s because now he’s too busy with his new work?”

That wasn’t intended to be a question: Ginjou knew where Tsukishima was bringing the conversation and there was no way to avoid it without agreeing with what he was about to say. He knew what Tsukishima thought about his past interactions with Ichigo and, Ginjou had to admit it even with reluctance, he was right on almost everything.

“Don’t go round and round. Say it clearly.”

“What?”

“Ichigo isn’t that affected by me because he may be craving for his boss to undress him on the counter. That’s what you think.”

“Those are not the words I would have used, but they centered the matter anyway.” Tsukishima smirked. “I’d let him undress me on the counter, if I weren’t faithful.”

Ginjou snapped the tongue against his lips. “So what? Ichigo can do what he wants.” Ginjou rolled down the window; as the wind blew on his face, he slightly closed his eyes and tasted the sensation of that fresh touch through his hair. “I had no plans involving him anyway.”

Tsukishima hesitated. He was about to add something, but then he just pushed a button and rolled up the window, blocking the pleasant breeze. Ginjou frowned at him.

“Hey.”

“The headache will strike again. At least let it be due to alcohol.”

They were the last to arrive. Everyone was already sitting at a table inside, quite far from the counter. Kaien noticed them first and raised a hand to guide them. Ginjou didn’t expect such a nice treatment from him, nor the smile and the greeting he did as they sat down.

“Late as always, huh?” Kaien smirked.

“Last time you looked like you wanted to punch me.” Ginjou commented.

“When?”

“In your office, when I went taking the documents which lead me to almost being killed.”

“Oh, yes. I was just pissed off and you were late.” That should have sounded like an explanation, but nobody took it as one. “This is where Ichigo works, you know?” He looked like a proud parent; next to him, Shinji looked like a wife overly-done with his husband’s bizarre behavior.

“We went here once and saw him.” Ginjou nodded.

“And you told us at least five time.” Shinji cared to add. “Now I’m going to stop the first one who passes here, may it be even Grimmjow, and fucking order something. I’m starving.”

Ginjou distractedly grabbed the menu and hid his face behind it. Tsukishima glanced at him and did the same, but his interest in the foods and drinks was true, he was hungry; Ginjou’s eyes darted from the tempting photographs of dishes and drinks to the hall.

Crowded tables, an almost pleasant buzz of voices and soft lights. Ginjou looked around and spotted a familiar orange head – it took more time than it should, considering the bizarre hair color. Ichigo was waiting for a guy with long blonde hair to finish filling some stains with beer; meanwhile, he was listening to a shorter guy with an eyepatch. Ichigo turned and glanced directly at their table. Ginjou spotted the sudden change into his expression, a deep frown: Ichigo noticed him.

That little reaction to his presence enhanced his mood. Ginjou smiled and raised a hand to greet him. Ichigo didn’t greet him back and turned around. In that exact moment, when Ginjou was enjoying the idea he still had some influence towards him, Grimmjow approached them. And Ichigo’s expression changed again.

Like a typhoon, Grimmjow wiped out the somber uncertainty Ginjou’s presence evoked inside him and brought with him a vitality that Ginjou didn’t remember he had ever seen on his face. Ichigo had the usual frown, the usual pout he created to maintain a certain appearance; yet, he seemed brighter and charged with a new energy which flowed inside him and poured outside. They talked, Grimmjow didn’t seem to pay any particular attention to him until Ichigo said something and everyone, even the guy behind the counter, looked at them. Ichigo flushed and walked away. Not a single glance in Ginjou’s direction. He forgot about him.

Everything happened fast. However, when Shinji hissed at him, Ginjou felt like he had just been interrupted in the middle of a film which lasted more than an hour.

“So, you take a beer too? I’m gonna tell that idiot Grimmjow to come and take our order!”

Ginjou massaged his temples; the headache seemed to be knocking to enter again his head. “Yes. Blonde ale.”

Ichigo was back from a very stressful day.

Yuzu got the flu, so he had to deal with two main problems: his breakfast (because it was always her who prepared it) and his father freaking out (because her beloved daughter had the fever). After checking on Yuzu, he walked to school eating a slice of bread (not toasted) with a little jam on it (Karin almost emptied the can), and to avoid a man on a bicycle to ride over him, he shifted aside; his whole body made it, but the slice of bread (he didn’t even eat half of it) miserably fell on the street, being proof that the bread always falls on the side of the jam. At school during the math test, he caught sight of a small piece of paper on the floor and picked it up; the teacher, who always seemed to have his head up into the clouds, caught him and believed he was the one who wrote the formulas to cheat: his test was invalidated, and he received a punishment. Then everything went smoothly, until, while walking to work, someone threw a can of royal milk tea from the window of a running car hitting him on the chest and pouring half of the tea on his uniform.

The universe was probably balancing the elements into his life, Renji replied as Ichigo texted him about his awful day – Keigo talked about some curse at school and Orihime agreed with a disturbing vigor. Rukia just said he suffered from a persecution complex and had to change his view on the world. When Ichigo entered the pub, he proved that theory wrong and thought that maybe Keigo and Orihime weren’t wrong.

He should have suspected something because the heavy door, which usually slowly closed on itself, was wide opened. Ichigo didn’t mind it. At least until he showed at the doorstep.

“Good–”

A splash of water entered his mouth and suffocated his greeting. A hideous taste hurt his tongue and Ichigo spat at his feet the water threw at him. He kept coughing, feeling a bizarre sense of nausea at the stomach, close to the stomachache he felt before vomiting. Trying to wipe his lips with the hand was useless, as every part of him was dripping water and he couldn’t do much. Ichigo checked inside his bag, but at least it seemed like his books were spared. In front of him, Di Roy was in shock, holding an empty bucket and staring at him in disbelief.

“Ichigo! What the hell are you doing there?”

“I work here!”

The bucket dangled into Di Roy’s right hand. “I threw all the dirty water at you.”

“Thanks for telling me! I didn’t notice!” Ichigo spat once again and again wiped his mouth. “Why don’t you look before doing that?! Now I have to go back home and take a shower!” Another spit. The strange taste wasn’t leaving his mouth.

“Nah. There’s a bathroom on the upper floor. Use the shower.” Di Roy paused. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t sound that sorry.”

“I told you to use the shower, ungrateful!” Ichigo walked past him. “Hey! Do you think I’m going to wipe the mess you’re leaving behind? I’ve just finished cleaning the floor!”

“Where’s the bathroom?”

Di Roy took the mop and walked behind Ichigo to dry his path of droplets. “Follow me. And don’t move around too much!”

“How can I walk without moving around too much?!”

After taking his working clothes -and ignoring Yylfordt’s chuckles- Ichigo followed Di Roy to the bathroom, at the end of the corridor. The drops of water traced the path he followed and Di Roy, grumbling among his teeth, had to follow it back to dry it.

Ichigo took off his white shirt, which acquired a sinister greyish color, his trousers, the socks and the underwear. The water dried a bit on his skin, leaving an unpleasant sticky sensation. Ichigo entered the shower, closed the transparent doors and opened the spray of water. It was cold but relieving. He let out a long slow sigh and leaned the head against the smooth tiles. He adjusted the temperature only when he realized he was trembling.

Then, while he was still trying to get the right mix of hot and cold water, the door opened. He turned around and saw Grimmjow walking into the bathroom. He barely closed the door behind him that had already taken off his t-shirt and thrown it in an angle.

Grimmjow turned around and saw Ichigo. Ichigo knew that he was aware of his presence, but Grimmjow kept undressing as if he was alone. Through the slightly clouded glass, he had a complete view of Grimmjow’s body: the muscles of his back straightening as he bended to take his trousers off, the strong legs slightly contracted while he took his socks off and -Ichigo gulped down the little saliva left into his mouth- his firm rear when he completely undressed.

“Hey!” Grimmjow turned his head towards him and Ichigo’s heart stopped. “Move your ass and be quick. I need to take a shower too!”

Something relaxed inside Ichigo, but now he was facing directly Grimmjow, with only a thin glass separating them. He had the perfect view of his broad shoulders, his defined abs and pecs, and… Ichigo turned around. He found a slight relief as he shifted the lever again towards cold water.

During the shower, Ichigo kept his eyes fixed on the tiles and didn’t turn around until he was finished. Instead of taking one of the towels hanging near the shower, he grabbed the bathrobe and covered himself. It was suffocating having all that cloth over his wet skin, he wasn’t used to it, but he firmly tied the belt around his waist.

“You took your time.” Grimmjow ruffled his own hair. The humidity of the room made them heavier and they weren’t shaped in fierce but soft spikes aiming backwards but fell down around his face. _Handsome_ , Ichigo thought with a hint of irritation.

“I was fast.” He frowned. “And I was here first.”

“This is my place.”

“What does that matter?”

Grimmjow passed near him, so close that their arms almost touched. Ichigo turned towards him, only a single glance. But Ichigo kept looking at Grimmjow, his eyes captured by the long white scar running from the left side of his neck to the shoulder; another line, less evident, intersected it, marking the division between the arm and the torso. It looked like a slightly twisted cross.

Ichigo was too slow at turning his head away, as Grimmjow looked back at him and caught him.

“I–”

“You’re not the first one who stares at my ass as if they’ve never seen one.”

“I wasn’t looking at your ass. Don’t sound so smug.” But Grimmjow wasn’t smug, he looked only tired.

“What a pity, you lost your chance. Move.”

“What a nice chance, tch.”

Ichigo grabbed his clothes and went changing in the room nearby, the one with the sofa where he dragged a drunken Grimmjow. Thinking back, it seemed like that happened ages ago, but only few weeks passed.

“I only have to survive the evening.” He said looking at his reflection into the window. “Only this evening and this day will be over. I can’t go worse than this.”

Exactly two hours later, Ichigo spotted Ginjou and remembered that life always found a way to make things get worse.

Ginjou and Tsukishima appeared at the table with his uncle and Shinji; Ichigo didn’t looked in that direction only for a handful of seconds, which apparently were enough for them to appear. The smirk on Ginjou’s face awakened a familiar disturbing itch inside his stomach; disgust and regret. Mostly regret.

“Hey, brat.”

Ichigo , for how he wanted to appear as a though and ruthless boy, couldn’t bear grudge for more than one person at time. So, as Grimmjow called him, he forgot about Ginjou and focused on him.

“I’m not a brat.”

“Yes, you are.” Grimmjow was distracted. He glanced at the hall. “I’ll take the orders from Kaien’s table. I’ll bear his complaints.” He added as Ichigo opened his mouth. “Now move your ass and don’t stare at the others’.”

“I wasn’t staring at your ass!”

Ichigo realized he almost yelled it. He hoped nobody heard, but Di Roy’s face was asking for an explanation and Yylfordt seemed shocked as well.

“We were naked in the bathroom and–” That sounded even worse, considering that Grimmjow didn’t go away and waited there for him to finish. “–whatever! I wasn’t looking at it!” Ichigo completely forgot about Ginjou as he walked to a table where a client was throwing her whole arm in the air to catch his attention. His cheeks were still red when he took the order.

It was right in that moment that three new clients entered the pub.

They looked like a small group of friends out for a chat in front of a beer. A bit eccentric maybe, considering the one with the pink mohawk and the buff tall man with blonde hair who seemed made of at least two men compressed together. The other, a slender man with black hair, seemed calm enough to balance the noisy duo.

Di Roy noticed them first.

“Hey Yylfordt, that’s you in few years. Except for the muscles.”

The man couldn’t be considered a fine beauty and wasn’t in the slightest similar to Yylfordt.

“Very funny, Di Roy. Bring these beers at the table.”

And that was the end of it. None of them considered the men anymore, so they didn’t notice they weren’t waiting at the doorstep for someone to lead them to a free table. They indulged only a handful of seconds, scanning the whole pub, then marched straight to Kaien’s table.

They stopped right before Ginjou.

Grimmjow was taking the order (and arguing with a very hungry and tired Shinji) and was the first to notice them. Despite he was interrupted by their presence, he considered them as clients. Rude and invading clients, but clients nonetheless.

“If you wait a sec, I’ll send–”

“We’re not here for your beer, brother!” The young guy with the mohawk dismissed him. Shinji glanced at Kaien and then at Grimmjow: he could already imagine the young man lying on the ground outside the pub.

Shinji leaned more towards Kaien. “What happened the last time someone cut Grimmjow off like that?”

“I had to lie on my report.”

“…you are a policeman, Kaien. Don’t tell these things with a straight face. Show some regret at least.”

Kensei stood up. “Here we’re having a nice evening among friends and if you are here to disturb–”

“You can go back to your drinks, who cares about you?” That mohawk guy seemed to be looking for a good fight. Shinji grabbed Kensei’s leg from under the table, silently asking him not to do anything stupid.

The mohawk guy opened both arms and looked at Ginjou. Behind him, the one with black hair fidgeted nervously.

“Bazz, you’re not going to do anything–”

Bazz was faster than his words. His fist reached directly Ginjou’s face, filled with too many painkillers which slowed down his reflexes. He didn’t fall on the floor only because Tsukishima grabbed him. The blood from his nose covered his mouth and his chin.

“–stupid. I knew it! I didn’t have to come!”

“Shut up Askin! Nobody asked you! And–”

Bazz’s face smashed against the table. Kensei stood up and blocked his whole body. Despite the resistance he was trying to put, Bazz may have been a match for Kensei for the speed, but he wasn’t for the physical strength and he had already lost the chance to make the first move.

“Let me go, you bastard!”

“I’m a policeman.” Kensei’s smile was more similar to a sinister grin. “Now, little idiot, you are under–”

Kensei’s words became a surprised yell. A huge arm hit him into the stomach and he pounded against a table. He trashed away the drinks the two old men had barely started to taste and fell on the floor curled on the stomach, both hands right where the pain of the impact with the punch was making his body burn.

Bazz was free, but he reacted to slowly, due to the unexpected help. Kaien was on him and blocked him again, while Shinji knelt next to Kaien, glaring to the huge man who was towering on them. He was massaging his fist.

“None of you is a match for me. Take your guns out and shoot me!”

Right in that moment, Grimmjow kicked hard behind his knees. His fall was heavy, the sound of his knees knocking on the floor echoed in the silent hall. Part of the clients moved away, some exited the pub in a hurry; the others froze on the chairs, unable to move.

The one called Askin used that moment, when everyone’s attention gravitated around the huge man and Grimmjow, to retreat. He walked backwards, moving among the tables being careful at not drawing the attention back to himself. However, as he decided to turn and make a run for the front door, his face met with a fist which knocked him out.

Ichigo moaned in pain and shook his right hand. “Damn it, your face is all bones.”

It took him one instant to stop the escape of Askin. The same instant it took the huge man to be on his feet again and stomp his right boot on Grimmjow’s stomach. Ichigo didn’t know how it happened, but the adrenaline inside his body exploded, blurring his reasoning: he saw Grimmjow rolling on the floor, the giant man grabbing one of the wooden chairs and he just dashed forward. He heard the voice of his uncle, maybe he was calling him, but Ichigo was too focused on the man that his brain had no time to elaborate other things (Kaien called his name, Bazz felt his hesitation and headbutted him on the mouth, making countless white stars exploding inside his head).

A stain of beer. Ichigo grabbed it and threw it with all the strength he had.

The beer poured on the man and on the floor, the stain hit him hard on the head. Ichigo smiled. Then his face turned into a horrified mask. The man was still standing, he massaged his head casually, in the same way Ichigo did many times on the bites mosquitos always left on him during summer: casually. Ichigo was a mosquito for that man and he was about to be slapped away; he could read it on his face, on the way his muscles contracted as he raised the chair again.

“Hey Thor!” Grimmjow kicked him on the face. Ichigo heard the sound of the broken nose, like the snap of a deadwood.

There was blood on the face of the man, blood on Grimmjow’s leg. He wobbled but didn’t fall, nor he let the chair go. He only changed his target again.

He smashed the chair against Grimmjow.

Grimmjow was fast enough to dodge the hit against his torso, not enough to save his whole body. For an instant, all he felt was cold embracing his left shoulder. Then, an inferno of pain exploded, spreading all over his body like an infection, so strong that he lost the control over his movements.

Ichigo (everyone) was terrified. In front of their eyes, Grimmjow collapsed on the floor as if his bones disappeared and there was nothing left to keep him on his feet. But it wasn’t the fall. It was the scream. The crying roar of an injured savage beast. His right arm clawed into the left shoulder, his whole body, unable to bear the pain, twisted in unnatural movements.

“Grimmjow!” Ichigo moved towards him. He didn’t see the arm swinging towards him, nor his brain had enough time to register the pain as it simply turned off. Before touching the floor, Ichigo lost consciousness.

Everything stopped.

The man threw the chair on the floor, disgusted.

“You’re not even worth it! Bazz, what’s wrong?”

Bazz was so horrified he forgot to escape. Kaien, few steps from him with his mouth filled with his own blood, stared at Ichigo, leaning down on the floor, still as if he was sleeping. His eyes were open, still.

Kaien screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, many things happened. I like how I wrote the last part, not really enthusiast about the beginning.


	11. One apple per day isn't enough to keep you healthy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a small easter egg in this chapter.

Grimmjow couldn’t feel his left arm. It was there, attached to his body, but he couldn’t feel it.

Someone put it along his body, leaned on the mattress and still like a dead animal. As Grimmjow tried to send some signals to it, only the part of his shoulder near the neck reacted, small jolts that vanished before they could even reach the beginning of the arm. He grabbed his wrist, feeling the skin under the fingers but not the pressure of the fingers on the skin, and raised his arm. As he let it go, the arm fell without any resistance; the wrist hit the barrier on the side of the bed before gliding back on the mattress.

“That’ll hurt later.”

Shawlong was sitting on a chair next to the bed, reading a book so thick that he could have used it as a blunt weapon. He didn’t raise his eyes from the pages as he spoke.

“I’m bored.”

“There’s the rugby match at the television.”

“It’s a replica.”

A powerful cacophony of laughs submerged his dull voice. The man occupying the other bed in the room was having a nice time with his family; there were so many of them, that they entered in different groups. Grimmjow sank more against the soft huge pillow and turned his head to the window. The light of the sky hurt his eyes; he squeezed them and turned back to Shawlong.

“You should be checking the cats.”

“I’ve done it before coming here.”

Shawlong closed his book and looked straight into his eyes. Grimmjow looked like a truck run over him and then made a U-turn to press him better against the street. He was so pale that if anyone said they drained almost all the blood from inside him, Shawlong would have believed them; the almost white complexion made the dark circles around the eyes look even darker. Grimmjow seemed to be ready to be engaged as a zombie for a movie, from his aspect to his behaviour. He drank only because Shawlong told him to, he couldn’t move his left arm, and barely moved the rest of his body due to the sense of drowsiness left by the huge amount of anaesthetic injected into him.

“I’m not worried.” Grimmjow limped his torso towards the edge of the bed, dragged the right hand on the bars and barely managed to stick out on the small basin Shawlong put under his face before throwing up some more stomach acid. He fell back on the bed with a heavy sigh. “Disgusting.”

Shawlong gave Grimmjow a small napkin before he could use the sleeve. He closed the small sack into the basin and went to throw it. When he was back, Grimmjow was lazily rubbing the napkin against his mouth. His eyes were dull and almost empty.

“You should sleep.”

“I’ve slept enough.”

The local anaesthetic didn’t seem to work, so, after the first attempts, the doctor decided for the total one. Unfortunately, when Grimmjow woke up (even if that state of slumber he was into couldn’t be called being awaken), the local anaesthetic seemed to be working even better than predicted: his left arm was useless. The few seconds that separated the realization he couldn’t move his arm and the explanation of the doctor, Grimmjow felt the world falling on him at the idea he lost his limb for good.

“Rest now.” Shawlong smirked. “It’s not like you can go somewhere now.”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling. The voices of his temporary roommate and his family were getting thinner and further. He glanced at Shawlong, blinked, and realized that it wasn’t that bad staying with the eyes closed.

“Shawlong.”

“Yes, the cats are fine.”

Even in that state where Grimmjow was witnessing the world as if he was behind the glass of an aquarium, he noticed Shawlong’s patient tone, the one usually used with children. Somewhere, among the drowsiness, Grimmjow felt pissed off.

“The brat… where is he?”

Grimmjow closed his eyes and didn’t hear Shawlong’s reply.

When he woke up it was night. There was no light coming from the window, and the noisy chats of his roommate’s family disappeared into the void of silence. As his conscience cleared from the remnants of the sleep, Grimmjow distinguished many noises in the background: the continuous buzzing of the machines in the room, the heavy breath of his roommate, feeble steps coming from the corridor, and a lonely car roaring in the distance.

Grimmjow felt many different sensations all at once. Nausea, hunger and the urge of going to the toilet were punching his guts and making him feel worse than he already was. He pressed the button on the bed and the nurse for the night arrived in a handful of seconds. A small man entered the room, slightly bended forward in an almost reverential pose. His voice was so low that Grimmjow barely heard it.

“Oh, you’re awaken.” He smiled and looked as sick as a patient. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to go to the toilet.”

“But you have the–”

“Or either you take these things off, or I’ll do it myself.”

Despite his voice lost the powerful energy that always flowed from his vocal chords, Grimmjow’s low but threatening growl was enough to startle the nurse. He scratched his arm in evident distress and looked around.

“Uhm… I’m going to call the doctor, okay?”

He left. Grimmjow’s patience was running out together with his physical resistance. Few moments before his instinct kicked in to rip whatever was attached to him from his body, the nurse came back. Grimmjow didn’t notice him immediately, as he was hiding behind a blonde doctor and a tall broad nurse with black hair.

“Hello there, Mr. Jaegerjaques!” Despite it was apparently deep night, he spoke cheerfully, as if he didn’t care if the other patient would have woken up. “Ah, he has a heavy sleep, don’t worry.”

For an instant, Grimmjow thought he read his mind, but it was the tall man who gave the doctor a warning glance.

“So, you need the toilet for? Big need? Small need?” He didn’t abandon the carefree tone of voice which made him sound like he was having fun.

Grimmjow abandoned his head against the pillow with a growl. “Could someone punch him for me?”

Of course, nobody did.

“I need to know because undoing your–”

“I have to take a shit. Are you happy now?” Grimmjow made a grimace. “Sick fucker.” He muttered under his breath, so low that everybody noticed he said something without grasping the meaning.

“Oh. Well, comprehensible. Tessai, would you accompany him to the toilet?”

“I can walk on my own.”

It turned out that the combo of lack of food in his stomach and the aftermaths of the anaesthetic were a deadly combo even for Grimmjow’s strong body. The nurse, Tessai, hold him to the toilet, but had the decency of leaving him alone for the time being – the decency and respect of personal space that probably the blonde doctor didn’t have. Then he accompanied him back.

“I’m hungry.” Grimmjow declared at the doctor who was sitting on the chair next to his bed while watching something on his mobile.

“I’ll provide to make you have some food, even if you missed dinner time.” He made a huge smile. “Or are very early for breakfast.” That old joke amused him to the point he chuckled at his own words.

Then, all of a sudden, the chuckles disappeared, leaving behind a serious man. In that moment, Grimmjow could see the signs of tiredness on his face, marking his eyes with dark circles and his skin with wrinkles.

“Mr. Jaegerjaques, it was my colleague, miss Unohana, who operated your arm the first time. Unfortunately, she wasn’t here when you arrived, and I was the one who was called in her place. I am Urahara Kisuke, nice to meet you.”

Grimmjow didn’t know that. He was knocked out by the anaesthetic before he could even detect the one who would have declared the future of his arm among the countless surgical masks.

“What’s the deal? No sugarcoating.” He burst out with a tired voice.

Urahara took some seconds to look at him. There were different ways to deal with patients, all depending on their attitude. Grimmjow didn’t seem like someone who preferred the long but softer way.

“The deal is that you’ve basically lost the last chance of having your left arm more or less like before.”

He expected a violent reaction, might it be a hysteric laugh, a scream of pain or tears of anger. Instead, Grimmjow completely leant the head against the pillow and looked at the ceiling.

“Well… fuck it.”

“Of course, you’ll move again your arm. We changed the prosthesis inside your shoulder and you should have no problems. But I’d recommend you avoiding quarrels. And…” Urahara scratched his chin. “…no efforts without an accurate control. You’ll have to do physical therapy again. However, we can talk about this tomorrow.”

“…I’m still hungry.”

“Some food will arrive, don’t worry.”

The food arrived few minutes after Urahara left. Everything tasted like shit, but Grimmjow ate it anyway. When Hanataro, the first small scared nurse, came back to retrieve the tray, he found him with the head dangling on his chest. He didn’t move when Hanataro made the tray fall on the floor (the other man stopped snoring and turned on the other side), nor as he adjusted his head on the pillow and covered him to the shoulders.

Few hours later, when the sun was lazily rising in the sky, Grimmjow woke up in pain.

Countless needles of fire were stinging his left shoulder and flowing through his whole arm to the tip of the fingers. A continuous flow of pain shook his whole body and he almost yelled.

“Fuck it!”

His curse attracted Tessai.

“The morphine’s effect run off.” He commented with a calm which gave on Grimmjow’s nerves.

“I know! Give it to me!”

Grimmjow yelled and woke his roommate up. The man jolted into the bed, scared by the sudden yell, and looked around in confusion.

“Mister Jaegerjaques, you awakened mister Omaeda.” Tessai spoke with a calm voice, he didn’t let that violent reaction affect his mood. He checked the dose of morphine and injected it into drip-feed. “This should be enough. We’re lowering the dose, so you still may feel some tingles but not pain.”

“I know how it works.”

The morphine hadn’t entered his body yet, however, watching the needle injecting it in the small tube, relaxed Grimmjow enough to avoid more ruckus. From the other side of the room, mister Omaeda was grumbling at him for waking him up without keeping his voice low. Grimmjow ignored him.

The sweet embrace of the morphine didn’t let him wait much. It lulled his body, numbed his mind and melted his defences. When the doctor entered the room, he was already sinking in the bed, enjoying the numb crawling he felt inside his left arm.

“How are you feeling today?”

Grimmjow was interested in the shades of the morning sky and he didn’t reply to him. Urahara didn’t mind and patiently called him.

“Grimmjow?”

Mister Omaeda, who looked even fatter thought the veil of the drug, grumbled. “The nurse has given him the morphine. Right after he woke me up.”

“Fuck you.”

Grimmjow’s voice was light, but he silenced Omaeda anyway. Any trace of negative feelings he could harbour inside was erased by the drug running inside his veins. He rolled the head on the pillow and looked at the doctor.

“I’m feeling great.” He stopped and reflected. “Actually, I need to jerk off.”

While Omaeda was suffocating in shock, Urahara scrolled his shoulders. “Unfortunately, I cannot help you with that.” He leafed through the folder he was holding in hand. “We’ll keep you here for few days under observation.” It took Urahara a single glance to understand Grimmjow was living in the dizzy dimension where he couldn’t feel pain and was almost floating inside a heavy sleeping body he couldn’t move. “I guess we’ll talk later about the physical therapy. Then–”

“No. Wait.”

It seemed like Grimmjow had just recalled something. Urahara didn’t stop him as he struggled with his own idle muscles to sit down, however, blocked his attempts of ripping the needle of the drip-feed off from his arm.

“Now now, isn’t it too early to leave the bed?”

“Where’s the kid?”

“Huh?”

“My employee.” Grimmjow cut off. “Is he dead?”

“I’ll go check his conditions and let you know.” Despite being thinner than Grimmjow, Urahara grabbed him by the sane shoulder and pushed him back on the bed. “You should take a rest now.”

“I know.” Grimmjow snorted. “I went through this once.” He looked at the ceiling. His roommate was complaining with the doctor about the early awakening, instead of trying to sleep again. Grimmjow wasn’t listening, he was too busy contemplating the white surface above his head. He couldn’t move his left arm and the right one was too dull due to the morphine. Jerking off was out of question. He snorted and let the sweet numbness embracing him like a cocoon.

In the same hospital, on another floor, Ichigo was awaken.

He stayed in coma for less than 24 hours. When he woke up, the doctors took a breath of relief, being almost sure that was a sign that the trauma wasn’t as severe as it appeared. Yet, according to the procedure, he took countless exams to check that everything inside his head was okay.

Those were the words his father used. He was tired and looked at least ten years older but kept smiling as if he was only cutting an apple for his lazy son who didn’t want to get up, not for his reckless son who was lying in an hospital bed and for few hours was believed to end up directly into a grave. Probably next to his mother.

“Dad…” His voice was coarse. “…go home.”

“Drink some water, Ichigo.”

“Really… Yuzu and Karin–”

“Aunt Miwako is with them, don’t worry. They’ll be both fine.”

“But–”

Isshin poured some water into the glass. “By the way, what do you want for lunch?”

“…dad, I’m in an hospital. I don’t have much choice.”

“I know. But maybe I can sneak in some food.”

“Don’t use your position to do as you please.”

Ichigo was speaking in a low voice. The previous day, every word was a direct drum inside his brain, so he dosed and pronounced them with an unusual calm which didn’t belong to him; things got better, but he was still hearing each letter bumping against his head from the inside.

“What’s the point of doing some favours if you cannot ask for them later?”

There were many wrong things in that point of view, even if Ichigo knew that his father was (maybe) only acting like an idiot. Probably it was because he was blocked in a bed with his head half broken, but he didn’t dislike having him at his side being his usual self. It felt familiar, it felt like being at home. It felt like nothing happened at all.

Isshin showed him the slices of apple perfectly cut, with the engraving of stylized rabbit ears.

“I’m not five years old anymore.”

“But you’re sick. And when someone is sick, there’s nothing better than rabbit apples! They’re here to help you, it would be rude to refuse!”

“…mom always said it.”

“It was the only way to make you eat fruit. Not that now you eat it unless I tell you to.”

“But when you say it, it’s creepy.”

Ichigo took the slice and slowly munched on it. He wasn’t hungry, but he had to eat anyway because of the treatment and his weakened physical condition. He could walk, but his father didn’t allow him to go anywhere further the toilet inside the room, which increased his frustration of being stuck in a bed.

“That’s the way of talking to your father?” Isshin giggled. “You’re recovering fast. As strong as your mother.”

Ichigo took the second slice of apple and someone knocked at the door. A blond doctor Ichigo had never seen peeked inside.

“Bizarre carrot hair. You should be Kurosaki Ichigo.”

The convivial tone added to that embarrassing description, make Ichigo raise his defences against him.

“How the hell did you call me?”

His rude reply didn’t ruin the silly smile the doctor had on his face. “Very good I’ve found you, I wanted to check if you were alive before ending my shift.”

“…why should you check if I’m alive?” Ichigo abandoned the soft comfort of the bed and sat down. His head wobbled a bit, but he didn’t lean back. “You’re not my doctor.”

“I know. They asked about you.” The doctor shrugged. “But I don’t know everything about every patient, it would be so strange, right?” He laughed and Ichigo wondered if he had all the pieces at the right place inside his brain. “You’re alive, I’m gonna deliver the message now. Goodbye and sorry if I interrupted anything important.”

“Wait!” Ichigo bit his tongue, as his own voice hurt his head. “Who asked you to?”

The doctor frowned. “A patient of mine. It’s obvious.”

“That’s not helpful.”

The man pressed an index against his lips. “It’s a professional secret.”

“You’re not a lawyer and–hey! Don’t leave like that while someone’s talking!”

Probably the doctor didn’t hear at all his words, as he left right before waving his hand at them. Ichigo fell back on the bed in disappointment.

“If you think about it, there’s only one person who could have asked.”

When Isshin pointed it out, Ichigo felt so stupid because it took him too much time to figure out such an obvious thing.

“Grimmjow?”

“He’s the only patient who could know you’re here. Or you have a stalker which hurt themselves to be in your very same hospital.” Isshin tapped his chin with the tip of the knife, deep in thought.

“That’s creepy, geez. And stop doing like that, it’s dangerous.”

Isshin put the knife down and gently moved away the locks of hair from Ichigo’s forehead.

“Good, the fever is gone.”

Ichigo shook his head to distance the hand, however, he didn’t say anything else but only stared at the ceiling. The light from the window was too strong to bear in the condition he was.

“Do you want to drop by and say hi to him?”

“Huh?”

Isshin had a serious but serene expression. “Grimmjow.”

“No, it’s fine like this.”

“Good.”

Ichigo glanced at him. “Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t have let you out until tomorrow.”

“I said I don’t want to go, dad.”

It was a lie.

One day later, the pain was still there, but Grimmjow managed to bear the burden only with some painkillers milder than the morphine. He didn’t follow all the explanation, but he knew that tasteless medicine was useful for him to avoid waking up in the middle of the night.

It had been almost three days since the incident and the only one who went to visit was Shawlong – he then told Grimmjow that when the others came, he was sleeping under the effect of some medicine and snoring loudly.

Shawlong arrived in the afternoon, bringing with him his usual book. He believed to find Grimmjow still under drugs, too stunned to want to follow a conversation. Instead, Grimmjow was sitting on his bed and watching the television, finally enjoying the room for himself. Mister Omaeda left that morning.

“Neliel called before you arrived.” Grimmjow announced. “She can’t come, neither can the others.”

“I expected it.”

“She scolded me as if it was my fault.”

“No news. She always scolds you.”

Shawlong turned the page of the book. The small flip of the paper bothered Grimmjow; he couldn’t stand that Shawlong was sitting there, next to him, and paying attention to something else. Despite he was speaking while looking at the television.

“Well, this time she’s wrong.”

His voice snapped like a whip. However, Shawlong casually replied as if the whole conversation didn’t matter to him.

“Sure she is.”

Grimmjow turned to him. “If you came here only out of pity, then you can fucking go back to work! That’s your place!” He regretted those words in the very moment they blurted out of his mouth.

However, as a counterbalance to Grimmjow shock, Shawlong remained calm and nothing changed, nor in his expression, nor in his posture. He only slightly raised the head and glanced at him.

“Don’t worry, I have other reasons to pity you. Your arm isn’t among these.” He smiled. “After all, I’m not the one who slept with Luppi.”

Grimmjow moaned. “Always sticking to the same mistake.”

“How about when you got arrested because they believed you were a drug dealer, but you only took the shortcut while coming back from the errands and got involved in a fight?”

“That was a fucking mistake. They had it coming after breaking all the eggs!”

“And the old lady who beat you at perudo, so you had to offer her whatever she could drink, and she turned out to be a heavy drinker with an iron liver?”

“Okay, you can stop here.”

“There’s a long list.”

“Well, fuck you.” Grimmjow massaged his head. “I was an idiot. Sorry.”

“I know you are an idiot, there’s no reason to apologize.”

“And you are an asshole.”

None of them said more. Shawlong kept reading his books, at least until he heard a suspicious rustle of blankets coming from Grimmjow bed. When he raised his head, Grimmjow was standing up with one hand on the pole where the sack for the drip-feed was hanging.

“Do you need the toilet?”

“I’m going to buy something decent to eat at the vending machines.”

“I can go.”

“I want to go.”

“You don’t have any money with you.”

Grimmjow opened the drawer of the small night table near the bed. Inside there was a book; Grimmjow opened it and on page 213 there were some banknotes.

“My roommate believed he was better than me at poker.” He snorted a single amused laugh. “What an idiot.” He took the money. “Do you want something?”

“No thanks. I have my oolong tea with me.” He pointed at the bag at his feet. “I don’t trust what they could be selling here.”

“Yeah, sure. If you have time to stay here and read, go and take care of my cats, you fucker.”

“I checked them before coming here. They’re fine.” Shawlong smirked. “That is worth an extra on my next pay. You know I’m allergic at cats.”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and walked out of the room.

The small wheels of the pole squeaked a little, but Grimmjow didn’t mind. Being in the corridor filled him of a refreshing sensation which embraced his whole body and he realized for the first time the heaviness of the atmosphere he left behind into the room. But now that he was walking away from that small comfortable prison, he felt the shackles of self-pity falling behind him. Grimmjow took a deep breath and believed the air was fresher than in his room. At each step, he felt a wave of energy starting from the sole of his feet and raising up to his mind.

Grimmjow lined up in front of the vending machines, behind a young woman. He looked around distractedly, catching all the different sounds of the hospital: the voices, the steps of the doctors and nurses, a child who was crying somewhere, the low buzz of the vending machines broken by the thumps of the products falling, ready to be consumed. Ichigo.

He wasn’t speaking nor making any particular sound. He was standing to the vending machine next to the one Grimmjow was about to use, too absorbed in the contemplation of what he could buy to notice him. However, when he raised his head to check again on the cold drinks, his attention shifted away. He looked like he had just seen a ghost.

“Hey, brat.” The woman went away, and Grimmjow stepped forward. “You thought I was dead?” He inserted the coins and waited for the can to fall. Then he shifted to the snacks vending machine. Ichigo forgot about what he wanted to buy and remained with the hand near the slick, the coin so close that it almost touched it.

“…how many coins do you have there?”

“Enough.”

Ichigo discovered that Grimmjow had enough coins to buy so many snacks to give both a serious stomach ache. They hid in an isolated aisle far away from the vending machines, where all the doors were locked and hardly anyone passed by. Or better, Grimmjow walked away from the crowd, choosing the less crowded paths which led them to that tiny quiet corner, and Ichigo followed him. ****

The chairs were quite uncomfortable, but there was no one around. Only them, wearing the ridiculous blue striped pyjamas the hospital provided and their respective poles for the dripping-feed. Plus. A lot of snacks in the seat between them, a small wall which put them in their own comfort zones.

“Why you followed me?” Grimmjow opened a chocolate snack. “I’m not giving you any.”

“I don’t want any.” Ichigo snarled back crossing his arms. “My father fell asleep, so I just went away.”

“Wow, what a great escape.”

“You shouldn’t eat those things. You’re probably under meds.”

“I’m hoarding for the night.”

Ichigo frowned. “It doesn’t change if it’s day or night.” He glanced at the snacks and drinks on the chair next to Grimmjow, but he couldn’t resist and looked at his arm hanging from the sling attached around his neck.

“What’s the mawkish look?”

Grimmjow opened the aluminium can with the right hand. The click was followed by a loud frizzle.

“Nothing.” Without relaxing his arms, Ichigo looked at the locked door in front of them. “I was… wondering what happened when I fainted. I asked my father, but he pretends he doesn’t know a thing.”

“Then ask your uncle.”

Ichigo snapped his tongue. “He’s even more obvious when he lies about not knowing a thing.”

Grimmjow kept tasting his drink and munching on the chocolate bar. “Look it up on the internet.” He replied distractedly.

“If you don’t know it, you can say it!”

The crunch of the can wrinkling into Grimmjow’s hand surprised Ichigo. “When did I say I don’t know what happened?” He tossed the can in the air and grabbed it again with the same hand. “I know exactly what happened. I was awake.” When he threw the smashed can aiming at the small bin opposite to them, Ichigo was distracted by the movement and followed the trajectory as it drew a parabola in the air and miserably landed on the floor, missing the target.

Both looked at the depressed torn can lying on the floor.

“…get up and throw it properly.”

“Hah? You have some guts, throwing orders at your boss.”

“That’s called being a decent person!”

Instead of taking the thread of that quarrel, Grimmjow gave Ichigo a fierce look. “I’m not a decent person.”

“Yes… what was I even expecting from the one who slept with Luppi?” Ichigo turned his head.

“I’ll inject some air in your drip-feed tonight and kill you.”

“Good luck passing behind my father then.”

“If you managed to, it should be a piece of cake.” Grimmjow shrugged at Ichigo’s glare and grabbed another sweet. “The giant motherfucker died. A policeman entered and shot him.” He opened the package and put into his mouth a round chocolate ball. The flavour exploded on his tongue and, without barely munching it, he gulped it down. As he was about to take another one, he noticed a small movement: Ichigo was looking at him.

There was no need to ask what he wanted, because he had already stated it, and Grimmjow could read into his eyes that he wanted to know more – and probably would have troubled him until he spat it out.

“I don’t know the details. I pretty much passed out as well at a certain point.” He pointed out.

“You said you were awake.”

“I didn’t say when.” Grimmjow took another ball of chocolate. “Shawlong told me that some policeman arrived. He called them as soon as those three started making a fuss.”

“He basically saved your ass.”

“And yours.” Grimmjow snorted. “Then Kenpachi arrived–” Ichigo’s eyes widened, Grimmjow ignored him. “–and the giant dared him to pull the trigger.”

The sentence lingered in the air, as bitter as the taste of the medicines Ichigo still felt at the end of his mouth, too strong for the water to wash it away.

“He…”

“He pulled the trigger. Well, since he grabbed again the chair after kicking Kensei and Shinji, I suppose Kenpachi won’t face any trouble.” Grimmjow frowned. “What did you expect him to do? Gently asking him to put down the fucking chair?”

“Of course not!” Ichigo looked aside. “The pub… will stay closed for a while then?”

“You cannot work in those conditions.”

“I know I can’t. But won’t this affect the people coming? I mean–” Something fell on his lap and he jolted. There was a golden wrap on his legs. “…there’s no chocolate inside. It’s only the empty wrap.”

“Yup.”

“What am I doing with this?!”

“Throw it away.”

Ichigo grumbled, but he stood up and walked to the small bin. He bended to pick up the other one left on the floor, a small insignificant movement which was enough to make the world shake in front of his eyes for a second. He leant a hand on the wall, only for few instants, but enough for Grimmjow to notice. He stood up and collected all the remaining sweets, storing them in the pockets of the pyjama.

“Go back to your room.”

“It’s nothing, I’ve just–”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “Okay, stay here. Bye, brat.”

“W-wait!” Ichigo stood up fast and almost tripped in the pole. He didn’t know if Grimmjow pretended he didn’t see it or didn’t actually see it. “I’ll go back. There’s no need for you to tell me.” He forced himself to sound pissed off.

They met in the hospital only once. After that bizarre encounter, Ichigo didn’t have any occasion to see Grimmjow and he didn’t even look for one. Each day there was someone coming to visit him (his family was there every day, while his friends made turns) and each day he felt better and better, until the doctor dismissed him. He had to wait one week before going back to school and another one to get the permit from his father to start his part-time job again. It felt bizarre preparing himself with the perspective of going back to that place where he almost lost his life and a man managed to do it.

Everything was like before, but at the same time it wasn’t. The outside was different from the other buildings, it caught the eye: the label showed proudly the number 6 and the coloured windows didn’t show anything from inside. Ichigo wondered if that evening some clients who were about to enter caught even a small glimpse of what was happening. He indulged on the doorstep and wobbled on his feet, forward and backward. He couldn’t even lie and go back, because he called, saying he would have been back.

A car passed fast behind him, and he opened the door. It screeched a bit, as always, and inside the hall was in a dim light, as always. Ichigo pointed towards the tables where the incident happened; his irrational part was afraid he would have seen the chair used as a weapon abandoned there, in the precise spot Grimmjow was hit. However, of course, everything was in order.

“Hey! Welcome back! It’s been a while!”

Di Roy run towards him. He was about to pat a hand on his back, but he stopped right before landing and just waved it.

“You came to visit me at the hospital.”

“Yes, but it’s been two weeks by now. Did you enjoy your holiday?”

“No. The teachers gave me double homework because I had to study on my own.”

“Yeah. It’s shitty being a student.”

“Aren’t you attending college?”

“It’s different from high school.”

“Is that so…?” Ichigo sighed. “What am I going to do?”

Di Roy shrugged. A familiar voice replied instead.

“The usual.”

Shawlong was behind the counter. He smiled at him and made sign of getting closer.

“Shawlong. Hi.”

“Hello, Ichigo.”

As he got closer, he noticed he had a familiar package in front of him: it seemed like one of the snacks from the vending machines in the hospital. Shawlong noticed his interest and slightly shook it. “I confiscated these and many more snacks from Grimmjow. He was eating too much.”

“So… you ate them instead?”

“Some in front of him.” Shawlong chuckled. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” Ichigo found himself once again looking at the spot enclosed by those four tables; he fainted near one of them, according to his uncle’s story. “I was wondering, the clients now will be afraid to come, won’t they?”

“Actually, there was an increase.”

“…what?”

Ichigo was surprised. However, Shawlong didn’t have time to explain, and a harsh voice broke in.

“Did the hit ruin your hearing?”

Grimmjow appeared from the stairs, as always. The sling around his neck disappeared, but the neckline wasn’t enough to hide the bandages. Ichigo looked for a sign that his arm was injured, a little hesitation or a higher care while raising the left arm to scratch the back of his head, but Grimmjow was moving normally and gave no sign that there was anything wrong with him.

“We had an increase of clients, brat. That dead bastard did something useful too.”

“How come?”

“All of them want to hear about the fight.” Grimmjow showed a hint of pride. “Until they order drinks, it’s fine by me.”

Ichigo frowned. “Well, it was a one-sided fight. It’s surely a boring story without some alcohol.” Shawlong clearly laughed. It wasn’t a normal laugh, but something more of a spit of breath, however, he did nothing to hide it. Grimmjow glared at Ichigo. “Hey! That’s true! You didn’t do much to him.”

“I did more than you. You attacked him while he was distracted and managed not to be helpful at all.”

Grimmjow waited for the harsh reply, but it didn’t arrive. Ichigo glanced at his feet, then looked back at him with an expression that Grimmjow couldn’t bear: guilt. Instead of reacting, Ichigo was retreating and that was a situation that Grimmjow didn’t know how to handle. It was easy replying to an attack. It was difficult replying to a defence.

“I’m sorry.”

“Of what?” Grimmjow spat the words on his face. “Are you the one who smashed the chair around? No. Then be sorry to be a smartass.”

“I’m not a smartass!”

Shawlong coughed. “By the way, Ichigo…” He talked again when he was sure he had the attention of both. “…you’ll have a raise.”

“What?”

“If you accept doing an errand. Not daily, of course, you have school.”

Grimmjow reached the counter and grabbed a couple of papers from Shawlong’s hands, ready to hand them to him. “Let’s make this clear: I have no other choice because Di Roy is allergic to cats. That fucker.”

Di Roy, who was cleaning the floor but was putting more attention in eavesdropping, raised his head. “It’s not my fault! I always wanted a cat!”

Nobody paid attention to him – Ichigo barely heard his voice. Shawlong continued.

“You’ll help Grimmjow.”

Ichigo glanced at Grimmjow, then again at Shawlong. “Call a psychiatrist.” He felt a small thug at the level of his chest: Grimmjow grabbed him by his t-shirt.

“Are you looking for an excuse to go back to the hospital, brat?”

“It’s because of the shoulder.” Shawlong explained. “He needs to rest. And with rest I mean _rest_.” His eyes pierced through  Grimmjow, silencing whatever objection he had in mind. Ichigo felt the grip loosening until Grimmjow let him go. Shawlong went on. “But, of course, he cannot make many efforts for now. So, sometimes, he’ll need help. Nothing particular.” He fretted to add at Ichigo’s more and more perplexed look. “Cleaning the house, for example. Or taking care of the cats.”

“Can’t he just hire a maid?” Shawlong didn’t say anything, he only made a deep nod towards Grimmjow and didn’t need to explain anything more. “Well, yes, I see… it would be difficult.”

Grimmjow clenched his teeth. “You fuckers, I’m going to cut your pay.”

Ichigo raised both hands in front of him to stop him. “Hey, I haven’t accepted yet! I have school and I’m already too busy like this! This isn’t an errand, but a proper job!”

Shawlong took a piece of paper, scribbled something on it and handed it to Ichigo. “This would be the pay per hour.”

Ichigo read it in silence. Then he crumpled the paper in his right hand. “Okay, when do I begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo's thirtsy for money. Who wouldn't be?


	12. Sorting waste is not a waste of time if done correctly

Every week, Kaien and Isshin met at a café near the police station. One was a doctor, the other a detective, and it meant that they never had a fixed scheduled, but always had to find a particular spot in their busy lives to spend some time with each other. Kaien, in particular, since when Isshin’s wife died, didn’t miss a single meeting and, when he was sick, he invited his brother home – and most of the times made him go back home with some virus lurking and ready to give him fever and cold.

“How’s Ichigo doing?”

Of course, Isshin expected that question. Kaien pretended he didn’t care much, but, in a way or in another, he managed to read thought the lines of the daily messages the hope of having even a glimpse of news about his nephew.

“He’s doing fine.”

Despite he already knew it, hearing it first-hand calmed him down. “I’m glad.” Kaien nodded. “Karin and Yuzu liked the present I brought them the other day?”

“Yuzu loved the stuffed toy. Karin said she would have rather had a videogame, but she put it on her bed anyway.” Isshin chuckled. “She appreciated it. But aren’t you spoiling them too much?”

“You’re the one to talk. You buy them chocolates almost every day.”

“Are you thinking about having a baby?”

Kaien stopped blowing on his hot tea and raised his head. “What’s this sudden change of topic?” He was puzzled. “Not at the moment. Miyako is busy with her job and I’m with mine. We’re cool like this.”

“I see.”

The waiter brought them the lunch and for some minutes they didn’t talk. Isshin noticed when Kaien put the sticks on the bowl and stopped eating as well.

“Anything wrong?”

“I was wondering…” Kaien massaged his neck. “No, however I’ll tell it, it’ll seem like I want to mingle with your business, damn it.”

Isshin frowned at his brother and threw a crumpled tissue on his face. “Stop it and talk.”

“Hey! I was trying to find the right words…” A sigh. “…actually, it’s about Ichigo.”

“Still worried about him? He’s doing fine, really. He’s as strong as his mother after all.” Isshin looked calm.

“I’m aware of it…” Kaien sighed again. “Some months ago, I overheard him talking with Rukia.” It seemed like he pressed the right buttons, and his brother attention switched from the steaming ramen to his face. “I didn’t want to, of course.”

“I know. I tried all the times when he went home with one of his cute classmates.”

“Hey, that’s not a good thing, you know?”

“But if you always asked me the outcomes.”

“That’s different, it’s because I care.”

Isshin frowned. “I cannot spot that much difference.”

“Actually… it was a heavy secret. Which makes it all more difficult.” Kaien scratched his head. “I didn’t say anything to Ichigo up to now because I was waiting for him to be ready to talk to some of us, but–”

“I know.”

Under Kaien’s shocked eyes, Isshin slurped a huge quantity of noodles.

“You… know?”

“I know Ichigo has something bothering him. For a long while. But he is a teenager, and family is the last resort at this age.” Isshin managed to talk and munch on his food at the same time. “I don’t want to force him. When he’ll feel like trusting me enough, he’ll come to me.”

Kaien felt uncomfortable. “…what if things slip out of hand?”

“Uhm… it’s kinda vague, since you probably know what bothers him, while I can only imagine it, but I’ll know. Ichigo is not able to hide things.” Isshin smiled. “I want him to feel as much comfortable as possible, especially after what happened at his part-time job.”

“Back then, I seriously thought you would have told him to drop it.”

“What for? He likes working there. Even if he pretends he doesn’t.” Isshin chuckled. “You should look at him how he complains about everything, but as soon as Karin remarks something bad he said about his co-workers or his boss, he suddenly finds something good to say about them.” He ate a huge mouthful of noodles again, then continued. “Accidents happen everywhere, and I cannot keep him locked into a cage. He has to take his own risks.”

Kaien wobbled his glass towards him. “If I didn’t know you, I would say you don’t care.”

“I’m always scared, Kaien.”

“Always?”

“Most of the time.” Isshin corrected himself. “I’m scared when they go out and when they’re late. I’m scared when they’re back because I don’t know what happened to them and how I can help them. I know that the more they grow, the less they’ll be likely to confide in me. Ichigo is the first, Karin the second, and I believe my dear Yuzu is following the same way too…” He sighed. “But I don’t feel the scare so much because I trust my beloved children, and I always keep an eye on them to be there when they’ll need me the most.” He emptied his cup of coffee. “There’s a sort of balance to everything.”

“You seem confident, huh?”

“I am confident. That’s how you grow up three splendid children.”

“Are you scared or confident then? You can’t be both.”

“I am both.”

“That’s why we always argued when we were younger.”

“We argued because you ate my manju.” Isshin pointed out. “If you want some advice, you should tell Ichigo the truth. Maybe he will open to you, maybe not. But it’s always good not hiding things. And my son needs inputs to change his route.”

“He will never go to anyone on his own to tell his problems, huh?”

“He doesn’t want to be a burden, that silly boy. He’s been like that since when Masaki died.”

There were few things Kaien had trouble to face. He had never learnt properly how to react when his brother was sad. If only Isshin cried and showed any sign of desperation like most of the people, Kaien though it would have been better. But the only glimpse of sadness was the soft nostalgic smile which made him look older than he was. Kaien gave a pat on his back so strong that he almost made his face smash against the slice of cake.

“Hey! Is this the way of dealing with your older brother’s feeling?!” The sadness vanished. Isshin snarled at him before pouting. “First my children, then my brother. Everyone is treating me bad. What should I do?”

Kaien smirked. “Come on, you’re still my beloved older brother. I’ll always come to you for a beer in case of troubles.”

“You mean when Miyako is mad at you and you cannot face her because you’re wrong?”

Kaien spat some of his tea back into the cup.

The elevator opened with a clear sound, the cold voice stated they were at the sixth floor. Ichigo walked outside together with a small old lady who he left behind in few steps. He stopped in front of Grimmjow’s door, which was still closed.

He knocked. No one came. “Uhm, Grimmjow?” He tried to call him, but there was no reply, so he raised his voice. “Grimmjow!”

A kind old voice surprised him from behind. The old lady smiled. “He keeps the door closed because the cats always want to go out.” Satisfied by her explanation, she made her way without hurry towards her apartment. Right after, Grimmjow unlocked the door.

He had one cat under the arm, busy at munching his hand, but Grimmjow didn’t seem to care. “This fucker hid again. Come in before the others regroup.” Last time Ichigo heard such words, it was in a war movie he watched with his friends. “Move.” Grimmjow dragged him inside from the jacket and locked the door again.

Grimmjow released the grip, and the cat made a clumsy leap towards the floor, landing curled as a small ball of black fur. When he was back on his paws, he fretted to go brush himself against Grimmjow’s legs.

“Flattering me won’t bring you anywhere, asshole.” However, Ichigo had never heard Grimmjow saying _asshole_ to someone with such a calm inflection of voice. “Go find your sisters and mother and play with them.” Instead of obeying, the cat meowed and moved in circles around his legs.

Ichigo forced himself to look away from the cat. “What do I have to do?”

“Groceries.” Grimmjow went to the fridge and took a piece of paper hung on it with a magnet. “This is the list. The shops are all nearby.”

The paper was folded in four. Next to each product there was the quantity and the brand.

“I don’t have a car.”

“I know.”

“This is lots of stuff.”

“I know.”

They looked at each other in silence. Grimmjow had his arms crossed.

“If is there anything you don’t understand from the list, tell now or never. It goes without saying that it’s better you don’t buy anything wrong.”

Ichigo repressed the subtle doubt that probably he didn’t put much care in judging that offer and was afraid it could give more trouble than it was worth.

“You aren’t coming?”

“No. I’m busy with the countability of the pub.”

“…got it…”

Ichigo didn’t have enough arms for all that stuff, so he planned to make different errands. The first travel was at the supermarket; Grimmjow took his sweet time to go open the door, and when Ichigo finally could put down the bags, the plastic left on his fingers deep red signs. He brought all the bags near the kitchen and left Grimmjow sitting at the table in front of the laptop to go buy food for the cats. Pantera had kidney problems which allowed her to eat only a particular kind of kibbles which Grimmjow ordered every month at the store – the clerk felt free to talk to Ichigo while he was waiting at the register. So, the second travel was to buy some food for the kittens and one huge pack of special kibbles for Pantera which Ichigo believed weighed more than himself, even if on the package it was written otherwise.

When he was back, it wasn’t Grimmjow who opened the door: it was Nel, holding a cat on one arm. She was as surprised as he was, but it took her less time to recover.

“Ichigo! What a nice surprise!”

“Oh, hi Nel.”

She took from his hand one of the two bags he was holding. “Come in. I thought Shawlong was kidding me when he told me Grimmjow was resting and you were helping him. Actually…” She put one index on her chin. “…I hardly believed he was resting at all.”

Neliel was different. She wasn’t wearing a leather tight attire, as Ichigo was used to see her: she had a white shirt and a black tie which matched with her elegant trousers; Ichigo noticed a matching jacket hung on the back of a chair.

“You came to meet with Grimmjow?”

“More or less. I finished earlier at work and decided to pass and say hi.” She read the question Ichigo wanted to say from his puzzled face. “I am a lawyer.”

Ichigo didn’t know what to reply. Grimmjow took him out of troubles coming out of the toilet.

“Nel, stop holding her whenever you’re here. She always wants to be taken because of you.”

“Stop it, you grumpy granny.” Nel rubbed the cat’s head. “He’s really grumpy, isn’t he? Of course he is.” She chuckled as the cat closed her eyes in approval of that soft touch. “Where are the others?”

“Pantera is hiding somewhere, the other two are sleeping on my bed.”

“Talking about bad habits…”

Ichigo felt like he was a bystander watching some movie without being able to interact with the action. He didn’t know how to enter the conversation, nor if he could. So, when Grimmjow talked to him, he was taken aback and not ready to reply immediately.

“You can go for today.”

“…really?”

“Yes. I have nothing else to do I cannot do.”

“Alright then.”

Nel frowned at Grimmjow. “You didn’t even offer him something to drink. What an asshole.”

“I’m fine, so…” Ichigo tried to talk, but none listened to him.

“He’s my employee, not my guest. And if he’s thirsty, he can tell, you know?”

“You always lack kindness.”

“Better being honest that being a fake kind dumbass.”

Before Nel replied, Ichigo said a general “I’m going.”, but her reply almost covered his words, so none of them noticed when he left.

Ichigo didn’t expect to finish so early. And probably it was a coincidence, probably not, but right when he stepped outside of the yard, his mobile sent a clear sound. He took it from his pocket and read the message from his uncle.

_ “Pass from the police station and come having dinner with me, would you?” _

Ichigo looked at the time, he glanced back at the tall building behind him.

_ “Okay. I’ll be there in half an hour.” _

He was a bit late because of the traffic jam. His uncle was standing in front of the vending machine with Shinji and Kensei. From their serious faces, Ichigo thought they were discussing something important, so he waited that they finished to talk. Before they did, Shinji noticed him, and, as he elbowed Kaien, the mood had a sudden twist.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“Nothing important.” Kensei shrugged. “They bet about Captain Kyoraku’s new lover.”

“I’m sure it’s the one he met at the café.” Kaien nodded.

Shinji sighed. “Why don’t you spend your time in a better way?” He finished his coffee and trashed the glass in the bin. “By the way, I know who she is.”

Both Kaien and Kensei stared at him. “What? Shinji, I thought we were best friends! You already won!”

“Well, you didn’t ask me if I knew already.”

Kensei still had all the coffee in his cup. “I’m going back to work.”

Ichigo looked at him: he walked normally, no sign that anything irreversible happened to his body. He felt relieved. As Shinji put an arm around his shoulders, he dragged him away of his contemplation.

“So, how are you doing? How’s that hard head of yours?” He ruffled his hair without putting much strength.

“I’m doing fine.”

“He’s resistant.” Kaien commented. “Ichigo, I must speak to the Captain. It’ll take me a while, sorry. I invited you hoping there was nothing left for me to do today.”

“It’s not a problem. I have homework to do.”

“Nice! Then you can go sit at Kenpachi’s desk. It’s his day off today.”

“What’s his desk?”

Kaien pointed at a desk with a computer surrounded by some bowls filled with candies and many framed drawings whose trembling lines and simple shapes hinted the artist was a child. Nothing from that desk had anything of what Ichigo recalled of Kenpachi: strong, dangerous, lethal.

“If you need them, he has coloured markers and pencils in the drawer. Sometimes he brings his daughter and she leaves them there.”

“I see.”

The desk was a silly colourful mess. As he sat down, Ichigo noticed some ribbons, stickers and there was a doll in the third drawer. He carefully put aside the objects and took his math notebook out the bag. However, he couldn’t keep the focus on the problems he had to solve, as his mind kept wandering elsewhere, he glanced around the office at each little noise he heard: the agitated voice of an old lady who wanted her cat back home, the gurgle of the vending machine spitting out coffee, the rhythmic tap of fingers on the keyboard of computers. He looked back at his notes and realized he had just written down the data of the first problem.

He was staring at the screensaver of the computer, a ball changing colour whenever it bounced on the sides of the screens, when someone put a red can in front of him. The dull sound surprised him, and Ichigo backed dragging the office chair with him. He raised his head: Ginjou was smiling.

“Are you waiting for those to complete themselves?”

“Mind your own business.” Ichigo defended himself. “What are you doing here?”

“Work, of course.” Ginjou pointed at his own head. “You doing better?”

“Yes. And your cut?”

“It healed in a blink of an eye.” Ginjou pushed the can towards him. “Here.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Wow. How rude.” He grabbed the drink back and opened it. The liquid made a low fizzle. “Do you want to go eat something?”

“I already have a date tonight.” Ichigo crossed his arms. “You’re two years late.”

When Ginjou smirked, Ichigo realized his reply didn’t have the effect he hoped. “And who’s dating you? Your fancy boss?”

“Who’s dating who?”

Never in his life Ichigo had ever been that glad his uncle arrived. Kaien was puzzled and glanced at both waiting for someone to clear his doubts.

“No one.” Ginjou reassured him. “I was just joking, and Ichigo took it too seriously.”

“I didn’t take it–”

“Guess I gotta go now. I have what I came for.” Ginjou cut him off and waved a hand. His satisfied smile ignited Ichigo’s irritation. “See you around.”

Ichigo couldn’t hide his disappointment, he didn’t even try. Kaien put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t mind him. Sometimes adults are assholes.”

“…you’re an adult as well.”

“Yes, but I am different.” Kaien slapped a hand on his chest. “I’ve never been an asshole.”

“One month ago, you poured salt into Shinji’s coffee.”

“How do you know it?”

“You bragged about it during the dinner at Kukaku’s house. You were drunk.”

“Oh… well, he had it coming, he ate my manju. Now, let’s go, I’m starving!”

Ichigo didn’t know where his uncle wanted to bring him. But surely, he wasn’t expecting _that_ place. When  Kaien drove in front of it, Ichigo fidgeted on the seat. However, he still had a high degree of certainty they wouldn’t have dropped there. But it turned out that place had a parking lot for clients, and Kaien parked the car there.

“Kaien, this is a cafeteria.” Ichigo commented without getting out of the car. “Wasn’t this a dinner?”

“But they do have a menu for lunch and dinner as well. I come here often with Shinji.”

“Say what?!”

Ichigo wondered if he did anything wrong in his previous life, since it seemed like he was gravitating around the _Dollhouse_ more often than he wanted to. The usual waitress welcomed them at the entrance -that day, her dress had a hoodie from which two pair of bunny ears popped out- and accompanied them at their table. All around them, there weren’t only teenage girls, but also some families, many group of school boys, and some old men which gave creepy vibes.

“What’s with this place? Why does everyone like it?” Ichigo commented while looking at the dinner menu, printed on a laminated cat-shaped paper.

Kaien’s face appeared from behind the menu he was holding. “Have you come already?”

“Rukia dragged me.” Ichigo left no room for him to wonder if he went there of his own will.

“She has good tastes. And she’s also a good friend, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

Kaien put the menu down. “Order what you want. It’s my treat.”

“You invited me. It’s obvious.”

“What a punkish attitude.” Ichigo avoided an energic poke that would have left a red sign on his nose. “I’m going to make you pay then. Since you have a job now.”

“No way! I didn’t even get to choose the place!” Ichigo’s frown was so deep that his eyebrows almost touched. “I don’t get it how I always end up here…”

“Don’t you like it? I think it’s cool.”

“We clearly have different tastes.”

The girl with ponytails arrived to take their orders. When she walked away, not without giving Ichigo a quick last glance, Kaien was contemplating his failure in making Ichigo order a dessert too.

“We could have had these matching cups…” He sighed.

“You should brink Michiyo here. Those are for couples.”

“But you and I are a wonderful pair.”

“Another kind of couple! And since when are we a pair?”

“Well, when you were a kid, you always used to come to me whenever Isshin didn’t let you do something.”

“I wasn’t even in middle school.”

Kaien sighed, his eyes wandered, stopping on a pink cupboard; but his eyes were seeing something from his past that nobody else could look at: Ichigo, who barely reached his waist, smiling at him while he run towards his open arms.

“You were so cute. What happened?”

“A bullet train hit me during puberty, apparently.”

“…what?”

Ichigo shook his head. “Nothing important.”

Kaien tapped his finger on the glass. All of a sudden, silence fell and none of them found anything suitable to say to keep on with the conversation. However, instead of trying to walk on the same road of delay, Kaien decided to face what had been bugging him for long time.

“Actually, I needed to talk to you.”

“Because of the incident?” Ichigo sighed. “I expected that and was wondering why you didn’t talk before.”

“No. That seems to be fine.” Kaien’s smile was weak, as if he forced himself to look happy. “I must apologize to you.”

Ichigo didn’t get it. He didn’t hide his puzzlement, as his brain was working trying to figure out why his uncle had to apologize to him.

“Well, you did nothing I recall you should apologize for, so–”

“I eavesdropped a conversation between you and Rukia some time ago. It was around March.” Kaien noticed Ichigo stiffed. “I didn’t want to, it just happened. But, thinking back, maybe I could have avoided it. You don’t eavesdrop by chance.” He didn’t know if Ichigo realized what he was talking about, or if he had so many things he kept secret to his family, that he was just trying to figure out what closet had been opened. He suddenly looked pale, and Kaien didn’t want to extend the mental unease he believed he caused with his confession. He checked around, making sure the waitress wasn’t coming, and lowered his voice, so that only Ichigo could hear him. “I know you like boys.”

The pause was long, filled with tension. Ichigo looked down; his guilty face hurt Kaien.

“Ichigo, I hate that I came to discover it like this because of my own carelessness, instead of waiting for you to trust me enough. I’m sorry.” The table was tiny, and they were close, but Kaien dragged his chair closer to Ichigo, and put an arm around his shoulder. Ichigo jolted at the contact but didn’t fully avoid it. He was still looking at his hands as if they were the most interesting things in the world. “I didn’t respect your private space and made a mess.” Kaien caressed Ichigo’s head. “I am glad there’s Rukia with you, and that you can count on her.”

The waitress arrived. She clearly was interested in what was happening at the table, why Ichigo looked so miserable and why Kaien was slowly massaging the back of his head (even if Ichigo interrupted the contact as soon as he realized she was coming); however, of course, that wasn’t supposed to be her business, so she walked away together with her hungry curiosity.

Both remained silent. Kaien contemplated the food on the table.

“My hamburger looks delicious.”

Ichigo quickly glanced at it. “…your bread is blue. How could it be blue?”

“Come on! The first thing after my beautiful discourse is a complain about my food?”

Ichigo didn’t chuckle, nor smile. His back was curved, as if there was such a huge weigh on his shoulders he had not enough strength to bear it. “Sorry, Kaien. For not trusting you.”

Ichigo rubbed his eyes. As he straightened his posture, his face seemed to be back to normal. Yet, there was a trace of embarrassment in him; he still wasn’t looking at Kaien in the eyes.

There were many things Kaien wanted to talk about. But he felt like he already hurt Ichigo enough, entering into his private without asking him and almost forcing him to reveal what he considered a secret to keep hidden even from his own family.

“Ichigo.” Nothing. “Hey. Look at me when I talk.” A bit irritated, he smacked his shoulder, ripping from him an annoyed reaction. Better than not looking at him at all. “Wait for how much as you need to tell someone else. I’ll keep your secret.”

“...thank you.”

Ichigo leaned on the seatback. His temples were pulsating, his face was burning, but his hands were dead cold. As the mingle of emotions inside him -fear, anger, regret, guilt- was dying away, his mind cleared, and his body felt lighter.

“What is that thank for? I have your back, there’s no need for it.” Kaien flinched on the tip of his nose, and Ichigo wasn’t able to avoid it. “Cheer up, you’re too young to have rides.”

Ichigo wrinkled the nose. “I don’t have rides.”

“You’ll have soon if you go on like that.”

“…and you have nothing to say?”

“About what?”

Ichigo hesitated. “About my… tastes.”

“Well, it doesn’t change much. You’re probably a disaster anyway.” As he didn’t get a reply, Kaien put the hamburger he was about to bite back on the plate. “It runs in the Shiba side of the family. I guess the only one who’s not a disaster in romantic relationships is Yuzu.”

“I didn’t mean that, I meant–”

Ichigo stopped talking as Kaien slapped his shoulder. “Dammit. Not doing it on the head lowers the effect.” He complained. “Stupid! I know what you meant, and you’re the first one who shouldn’t see it as a problem, since it’s not a problem.” Kaien glanced up with a pensive look. “Actually, you’re the problem, but only because you are a Shiba.”

“Yes, I know Shiba are troubles, but I’m not like you guys at all.”

“Hey, that’s rude!” Kaien slapped his shoulder again.

“Stop it!”

“Now let me eat my hamburger!” He snarled. “It’s getting cold! And you should eat yours as well!”

“I know!”

“You became rude with your favourite uncle!”

“I already told you that you’re not my favourite uncle!”

Grimmjow knew his arm could never go back as it was before. He knew it since the first incident which forced him to leave his previous job, and, in shorter time than anyone believed, he got over it. Crying, screaming and swearing wouldn’t have given him back the full mobility of his shoulder, nor the job he loved; that was what he said, and he truly believed it. Grimmjow was practical, one of his best qualities and the one who made him be back on his feet and brought him to open the pub. That was the reason Nel didn’t expect his breakdown.

She replied at his glare filled with rage with an unmoved, detached glance. But inside, she was worried.

“You know what? Fuck you!” Grimmjow kicked towards her the shards of the glass broken in the burst of rage which grew in intensity instead of dying. “You can bring your pity away from my sight!”

A mere observation triggered that fall of rage and desperation. If Neliel had known it, she wouldn’t have talked. But she realized her mistake only when the glass exploded into his hand.

“Grimmjow–”

“No.” He wasn’t yelling anymore, yet he sounded more angered than before. “I have enough of everyone giving me those pitiful looks. I know I’ve been sinking since when I had the incident! I know I had no chance to win this fucking trial! I know they would have fucked me up with some legal trick and that was exactly what happened! And it’s always my fault!”

“No. I–”

“I only wanted to keep my old job! I only wanted to have a fucking functioning arm and not a plate into the shoulder which needs to be checked as often as the bones of an old man! And now my condition worsened, and you come here talking to me as if I deserved this happened to me!”

Neliel refused to be interrupted again and raised her voice. “I only said that you should think twice before acting.” Her words hit Grimmjow like a whip. “You didn’t deserve what happened to you, but you had to see it coming!”

“Oh, I had to see it coming, huh? That’s why you look at me with those disgusting pitiful eyes and talk to me as if I was a kid who doesn’t get a fucking thing?!” Grimmjow laughed, even if he was everything but amused. “Nel, you’re an asshole. Get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to see your shitty face anymore!”

Neliel opened her mouth, she was about to insult him. Then, the door cracked, and both turned to the entrance. Ichigo looked at them in confusion.

“The… janitor opened, and the door wasn’t locked, so–”

Before he could say anything, Grimmjow barked at him.

“You’re early! I’m not paying you an extra!”

Ichigo had never expected a warm welcome at work, nor he expected to be treated differently during his extra hours at Grimmjow’s. However, neither the total opposite, being treated like shit for no reason, was in the list of the possibilities. He wasn’t scared, he was surprised. But as he froze on the doorstep and looked at Grimmjow in awe, Neliel jumped to the wrong conclusion.

“Grimmjow, let him out of this, don’t scare him.”

It was one of her worst habits: whenever she believed she was right (and most of the times she was), she talked down. Most of the times, Grimmjow was the one who received that treatment he labelled as humiliating. If usually he just ignored her pretending to be better than him, that day he had too many straws to deal with to ignore that as well. Ichigo didn’t manage to step in to correct Nel as Grimmjow overwhelmed his voice.

“Neliel, why don’t go away and let me alone? Things only worsened since when you’ve been trying to help me!”

“You worsened things on your own.” Neliel wasn’t raising her voice as Grimmjow did. She was calm, but her eyes weren’t: she could have hurt someone only staring at them as she was doing with Grimmjow. “And if you’re not capable of understanding this, then yes, you probably deserved it all.”

She didn’t add anything else. With her bag in hand, she stormed out of the apartment without looking back, despite Grimmjow’s eyes were piercing her like knifes; he looked close at throwing something at her. He didn’t.

Ichigo was left on the doorstep, in an unknown situation, and he didn’t know how to behave.

“…you didn’t scare me.” He cared to clear out.

“Go away.”

“What?”

“Are you deaf. Go away!”

Ichigo didn’t move. “It took me one hour to get here, I’m not going away.” He was firm.

“Listen, I don’t need your help.” Grimmjow’s words were poisonous. “I accepted only because Shawlong tormented me, that’s all. I’m fine on my own!”

“No, you’re not, idiot!” Ichigo raised his voice. “I’m not stupid! I see that your arm isn’t like before and making efforts won’t help you!”

Grimmjow approached him so fast, that Ichigo had no time to be surprised. He had the vague impression Grimmjow wanted to hit him, but he only kept enough distance to look at him in the eyes. Up close, Ichigo noticed his eyes trembled. “Nothing will help me. My arm is now as good as a chopped one.” Silence. “Now go ahead and pity me like everyone else.”

“I’d rather bite my tongue and die than pity you! Go and chop your arm if it bothers you that much!” Ichigo was five seconds from losing it. “Like this you’ll have no excuses and you’ll have to accept some help!”

“And what makes you think I need help?”

“Your arm was smashed with a chair! Are you kidding me?!”

“You are so eager of helping me, huh?”

Ichigo frowned. “I want money, that’s all. Don’t think so high of you.” He crossed his arms.

That was enough to silence Grimmjow. Not for long, but enough for part of his feelings to fuel off, frozen under the shock showing on his face.

“That’s a bold way to speak to the one paying you.”

“Well, the one paying me is an asshole, and I’m having none of it.”

Ichigo didn’t think he let his mouth run too much, the thought didn’t even touch his mind. Nor Grimmjow gave him a reason to think so. Even if he bended over him, got closer -too close- and put an arm around his waist, pulled him against his torso, and Ichigo found himself lifted in the air, in a precarious balance on Grimmjow’s right shoulder and arm.

“No! What?!” Ichigo grabbed onto his t-shirt. “Let me go!”

“You still think I need help?”

“Of course you do! You idiot, what does this even mean??! Put me down!”

Grimmjow let him fall back on the floor, and Ichigo barely managed to remain solid on his legs. He glared at Grimmjow, who looked back with a hint of curiosity into his eyes.

Ichigo snarled. “Now what?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing what?”

Grimmjow snorted. “I have nothing I cannot do. Why did you come?”

Ichigo felt the urge of slapping his face. “Why didn’t you send me a message? Like you did yesterday?!”

“Well, I forgot. I was busy trying not to strangle Neliel, which would have resulted in me being strangled because she’s strong and I am basically out of an arm.” He raised his left arm to underline his words. “And this time I had all the reasons to beat the shit out of that bitch.”

“…aren’t you two friends?”

“Yes, we are. But I’ll kick her ass anyway.”

The atmosphere relaxed enough for Grimmjow not being a catalyst of negative emotions. Something inside him clicked and switched off the button which was making his temper boil towards dangerous temperatures. Ichigo had no idea why it happened, but he was glad he didn’t have to deal with his angered boss.

“I’m going home then.”

“No, you’re not.”

“But I have nothing to do here.”

Grimmjow glanced at the clock on the wall. “I thought it was later, but we still have time. You should help me doing something very important.” His eyes narrowed as he glanced at Ichigo. “But probably you’re not suited for it. I could do it on my own, after all. And you were about to leave.”

“You cannot tell if you don’t try me, right?”

Ichigo fell into the trap and didn’t even notice it, as he was all focused on the fact that Grimmjow, even if slightly, doubted about his capabilities. Tricking him into it was easier than Grimmjow thought, and it made him feel almost guilty for it. But that tiny sense of remorse evaporated in thin air even before Grimmjow could understand what it was.

When Grimmjow explained what they had to do, it was too late for Ichigo to refuse; that seemed such a simple task that he felt like Grimmjow was mocking him. But he was wrong. He had no idea how much he was wrong.

“But first…”

Ichigo swallowed. There was something in Grimmjow’s voice which alerted him, and he couldn’t tell what it was. But his doubts were erased by the dull noise of the opening fridge.

“…do you want something to drink? I have a can of coke. Or beer.”

“The coke is fine…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiba family has many problems and most of them appear to be manju.  
> (I am particularly proud of the "Ginjou forcing the can on Ichigo" and "Grimmjow asking Ichigo if he wanted anything to drink" parallelism, but it's so little that I wanted to point it out - also, the title makes no sense)


	13. It's the cat who chooses its home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm extremely thankful to oldtown156 who proofread this very long chapter. It was a long and hard work and I cannot thank them enough!
> 
> An advice before reading. This chapter contains some strong topic (child abuse and attempt of suicide), so, if you don't feel comfortable reading about them, you can skip it and go to the notes at the end of it, where there is a summary of the chapter.
> 
> This is the longest chapter up to now. I hope it's worth the wait.
> 
> Also, some trivia in the notes at the end!

Ichigo underestimated the task Grimmjow entrusted him with. The living room turned into a battlefield, and the conflict didn’t extend to the other rooms only because Grimmjow closed all the doors before the fugitives could escape. They were at opposite sides, waiting in silence again for anything to move. Grimmjow, used to it, was the first to catch sight of one of the targets. He nodded towards Ichigo, his right hand pointing at the basket of fruits on the table; the tip of a black tail betrayed the presence behind it. Grimmjow moved the right hand towards himself, silently telling Ichigo to make the target run in his direction.

Ichigo was only wearing a pair of socks, yet, in the silence of the house, his whole body was producing noises that he had never heard before: his joints creaked, his breath was too loud, and his heartbeat as well echoed inside his ears. He swallowed some saliva and stopped, believing that the kitten heard it as well. However, the little ball of fur kept looking at his own paws, finding them more interesting than the human lurking at his back. Ichigo tapped the fingers on the table to have his attention. A pair of clear blue eyes looked at him. The kitten tilted his head, a bit surprised, but he didn’t hesitate scampering towards Ichigo’s hands. The little pink nose sniffed the index and went up, inspecting him up to the wrist. Ichigo didn’t expect that reaction, nor was he prepared for the feeling of a humid nose poking at the back of his hand and the coarse tongue licking his knuckles.

“Take him.”

Grimmjow’s voice reached him. Yet, the kind brush of the small head against his hand, trapped Ichigo in a state of serene contemplation which slowed down his reactions and he just turned to Grimmjow giving him a dull “Huh?”. The kitten’s fur was soft and the touch on his hand gave Ichigo a bizarre (strong?) desire of rubbing his head. Ichigo did it and the cat lazily closed his eyes; the small head bobbed as Ichigo scratched it.

“Are you an idiot? Take him.”

Grimmjow contained his irritation only because raising his voice too much would have probably alerted the kitten, lost in the attentions Ichigo was giving him. Ichigo frowned at Grimmjow. At the same time, the hand scratching the head massaged the neck and stopped on the back. Ichigo put his other hand under the belly of the kitten and raised it. But the tiny body arched in the shape of a croissant, the torso up in the air but the paws stretching to keep the contact with the table. Then, the kitten slithered between his hands, gliding away from his fingers like running water. Satisfied by the scratches, he jumped on the floor and went hiding under the sofa. Ichigo looked dumbfounded at the thin space between the sofa and the floor where the cat had just disappeared before staring at his own hands.

“…how could…?”

“Are you stupid?” Grimmjow felt entitled snarling. “You had it right there!”

“But you saw what he did! It was like he had no bones, I was holding him tight!”

“A kitten outsmarted you.”

“He didn’t outsmart me!”

“Yes, he did.”

Ichigo pouted. “Well, it’s not like you managed to capture the others!”

“That’s only because I can’t use an arm and my partner in crime is dumb.” Grimmjow suffocated the backfire with an impatient gesture of his right arm. “It’s late now.” He glanced at the clock at the wall. “I guess I’ll bring them to the vet another day.”

Ichigo remained there, near the table, looking at Grimmjow walking to the kitchen. When he told him he had to help him bring his pets to the vet, Ichigo believed that would have been an easy task. Yet, as Grimmjow pronounced the word “ _vet_ ” the cats disappeared and seemed to be nowhere to be found; Grimmjow followed Pantera into the bedroom, but as she dashed outside, Ichigo didn’t see her again; the three kittens were slower, but Ichigo had numerous failed attempts at blocking their way or catching them – the last one being the most embarrassing failure. He’d never thought chasing a bunch of house cats was that difficult. He was tired.

“Here.” Grimmjow threw something at him, and Ichigo managed to catch it only because he heard the call. He looked at the squared golden wrap. “It’s chocolate.” Grimmjow specified. “It’s yours.”

“Hey, I don’t want chocolate instead of money.”

Grimmjow snapped. “It’s not your pay.” He grumbled. “I was trying to be nice. If you don’t want it, then just leave it.”

“…thanks.”

“Now go home.”

“What?”

Grimmjow huffed. “Go home. It’s late.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want me to raise you again?”

Grimmjow didn’t even try to get closer to him, but Ichigo took a step back under his sharp glance.

“I’ll go home.”

While Ichigo was putting on his shoes, Grimmjow opened the door.

“Don’t talk with strangers.”

“Hey, I’m seventeen!”

“I was a trouble-maker at your age.”

“Not surprising at all.”

Grimmjow smirked. “You look like a boring teenager.”

“I have plenty of fun!”

“I said boring, not bored.”

Ichigo clicked his tongue. “I’m going.”

“Be careful.” Pause. “Or your uncle will come for my head.”

“Then I guess I’ll drop by a friend’s house and forget to tell my family.”

“And I’ll forget to pay you for several months.”

They looked at each other. Ichigo wasn’t much shorter than Grimmjow, but the man’s body was thicker, his shoulders larger and his chest broader. The physical appearance of whoever was standing in front of him had never had any effect on Ichigo before, but with Grimmjow, he always had sensed a vague overwhelming feeling weighing on his body. Grimmjow’s gaze had the sharpness of a blade, intense and dangerous, and Ichigo couldn’t divert his attention from his eyes: he always ended up gravitating towards them.

Grimmjow clicked his tongue. “Just go.”

The small sharp sound awakened Ichigo from his silent contemplation. He shook his head and shrugged. “Bye.”

“Don’t give me troubles.”

“Geez, I’m not a kid!”

Grimmjow closed the door. He remained alone.

The sun was setting, but he turned off half of the lights. As he opened the door of the toilet, Pantera scampered between his legs and went hiding in the sink.

“You really like it there, huh?” He ruffled her back. “I should run the water on you, traitor. You only postponed the visit.”

There was a small cabinet near the glass. Inside, a brush, electric and blade razors, shaving cream and hair wax on the upper shelf; on the lower one, some medicines stood in line with the labels facing whoever opened it. Grimmjow grabbed the last transparent cylinder on the left. The round flat pills were small, and he didn’t need any water to swallow two. However, before sitting on the couch to empty his mind with some stupid movie, he gulped down two whole glasses filled with water.

His left arm hurt. The sensation was like having countless needles piercing through his muscles and igniting a sharp pain, like fire spreading from the shoulder. Doctor Urahara lowered the dose; sometimes everything was okay, sometimes he didn’t manage to get through the day without taking some painkillers again. Grimmjow managed to find some relief leaning on his right side, with the left arm resting on his chest.

He changed the channel until he found a sea life documentary about whales. He wasn’t hungry, he wasn’t even sleepy. But he was tired. As he contemplated the idea of going to bed ridiculously early –Shawlong forbid him going to work if his arm hurt– Pantera jumped on the couch. She sat right in front of Grimmjow’s face, filling his visual with black fur and blue eyes.

“Hey, I was watching a documentary.”

She leaned in and poked her head against Grimmjow’s forehead.

“Kisses won’t soothe me. You were supposed to go to the vet today. We spent more than an hour chasing you and your three assholes.”

Pantera put a paw on Grimmjow’s nose and waited if there was any reaction. There was none, so she leaned against his chest stretching her whole body; she rubbed her head against his cheek.

“Are you consoling me?” Grimmjow scratched behind her ears. “I don’t need that, you know?”

He barely finished speaking when the three kittens climbed on the sofa, leaving behind the traces of their claws. One of them decided to climb on his legs, and Grimmjow felt the tiny claws scratching against the cloth of the trousers; the other two curled next to their mother, watching the attentions she was giving the _biggest cat_.

“Here, here, little assholes.” He kept calling them like that, even if they grew up from the little beans they used to be.

They let Grimmjow scratch their backs and got closer to receive more caresses.

Up to a few years ago, Grimmjow didn’t have a cat. Well, he never would have ever imagined he would have bought such an apartment and accepted to take care of a mangy stray cat either. It was Nel who had brought Pantera to him and left that burden into his life. They still had a physical relationship. It happened one month before the incident.

***

It was Grimmjow’s free day. He usually slept all the morning, after the night spent drinking with Nnoitra. Then, woke up only when his stomach decided he was more hungry than tired. Nel rang the doorbell before eight; she witnessed once again that Grimmjow was fairly attractive even with dark bags under the eyes and a pale complexion which made him look like an unhealthy vampire.

“Nel.” He growled. “Fuck you.”

He was very close to slamming the door in her face, but her mind was fresh and not clouded by the aftermath of too much alcohol. She managed to slither under his arm.

“Fuck you too.” She marched towards the kitchen. “We have some errands to do.”

Last time Nel disturbed him early in the morning on his free day, it was because a sudden revelation struck her; she had to cut her hair short. She cut it shorter than Grimmjow’s and spent the first month mourning her beautiful long wavy locks. Her hair now reached her shoulders; nothing compared to the majestic green waterfall which covered her back like a cape.

Grimmjow stared at her in silence for few seconds. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“No way. You have to take care of your cat.”

“Fuck that. Cats can take care of themselves.” Grimmjow was almost inside his bedroom when he went swivelled on his steps to face Nel again. “I don’t have a cat.”

Nel’s smirk was the worst premonition. Grimmjow noticed that her right hand remained hidden under her coat the whole time, and he took few steps back.

“Forget it.”

“I didn’t know Pesche was allergic to cats. And I couldn’t leave her in that cardboard box either!”

“Losing Pesche would improve humanity’s IQ.”

“Hey, he’s like my brother.” She reprimanded him with a deep glare. Nel didn’t change her expression much as she dramatically raised the small black bean in the air, resulting in a ridiculous attempt of being serious. The gesture reminded Grimmjow of an old cartoon he watched as a child. “You already like her more than a human!”

“Who doesn’t like anyone more than Pesche?”

Nel decided to ignore him. “I bet she’ll like your house in no time.” The very moment the cat’s little paws touched the floor, the deal was settled: the kitten was Grimmjow’s property, and that became her new apartment. “You should name her.”

“Neliel, take that beast away from my house.”

The cat looked around, a bit curious of their new environment, but too young to know how to behave. The tiny head spun around, and big blue eyes looked everywhere before settling on the couch; the claws created sounds of ripping cloth.

“Look, she’s enjoying your couch.”

“Hey! You little asshole, come and scratch her ass instead!”

Grimmjow pointed at Nel. Nel proceeded to take her shirt off, then the t-shirt. “Do you have any condoms left?” She only had a white undershirt left; the nipples ~~were~~ two small buttons on the round breasts. At first when  Grimmjow saw them, the alcohol and abstinence from sex had already awakened his erection when Nel started undressing. Now, he was tired and wanted to sleep, so that view had no effect on him. However, the slumber post-sex didn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Of course I have. But then I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay, okay.” Nel shrugged. “You can go buy stuff for the cat when you wake up.” She hugged him from behind, the fingers aimed without fault at the hem of the pyjama bottoms.

“At least wait until we are in bed.”

“Are you saying I’m a bad girl?” Her voice sounded almost like a purr into his ear. “Do I need to be punished?”

“Hey, not today. You damn masochist.”

“Oh wow, so you’re really tired.” She chuckled.

“Asshole, I worked like crazy the whole week.”

But the soft touch of her breasts on his back and the nimble fingers touching his belly, finally awakened him.

After sex, Neliel fell asleep right away. Instead of sinking him into the delicious embrace of sleep, sex sharped Grimmjow’s senses. He pulled the blanket up on Nel’s naked shoulders; light snores hiccupped her breath. Grimmjow had almost forgotten Nel brought a cat home, but he remembered as soon as he saw the black ball of fur munching on the bananas on the table. She was so little that she didn’t have enough strength to even move one of the fruits, yet, she kept attacking her target with unexpected fury. Opening her little mouth and making funny sounds as she tried to overcome her enemy. Leap back, leap forward, jump on the banana, claw it and munch it. Nothing accomplished. Looking puzzled at the failed attack. Redo from the start.

Grimmjow snorted. “Stupid, that’s not for you.” The cat didn’t really mind him until she heard the click of an opening can. More than the sound, it was the thick smell of the tuna which alerted her senses. She was right in between Grimmjow’s legs a few moments before he poured the food in a small bowl. The small head almost disappeared as the kitten plunged her snout into the tuna.

“Only for today.” She was deaf to Grimmjow’s warning as she devoured the food. “Tomorrow you’ll go right back to the street where you belong.”

“Oh, hey, good morning!”

Grimmjow knew Nel wasn’t talking to him. She never used such a cheerful and happy voice when addressing him. Almost one month before, she burst into his apartment with a mangy kitten. After some nice meals and a warm comfortable place, the black fur grew splendidly from the thin layer which barely covered the skin, and the body got bigger and stronger. She got used to the apartment in no time and asserted her reign over it and Grimmjow, acting like a queen who needed both personal space and constant attention. Grimmjow usually called her asshole but eventually named her Pantera; the idea came while he was watching a wildlife documentary.

Nel scratched Pantera’s head. “Who’s a nice girl?” However, she accepted the attention only for a handful of seconds. She’d rather follow the steps of Grimmjow, who was getting ready for work. “I don’t think she likes me.”

“Feed her some tuna and she’ll love you.”

“Tonight I went to the toilet and when I came back, she was already curled on top of you. Let me tell you, that’s love.” She smirked. “Beasts can easily understand each other.”

Grimmjow grinned back. “Thank you. Don’t you have work today?” He suddenly looked more like a father than a lover.

“I work close from here, remember?”

“Nel, I’m not giving you my keys. You’ll leave this apartment with me.”

Nel sat down. She frowned at Grimmjow. “We’ve been having sex for two years by now and we’ve known each other since high school. You could at least trust me this much.”

“During high school, you lost the keys to my bicycle three times. Then you lost the keys to your own apartment twice last year.” Grimmjow pierced her with his eyes. “I wouldn’t give you the keys even if we’d been having sex for a 100 years.”

“You’re making a fuss about nothing.”

“The fussy one here is you, princess.”

Grimmjow was giving her his back, so he didn’t see the book coming straight at his head. The remnants of the resulting headache were still stinging his nape when he reached his work place.

The studios right outside town were often used to film numerous movies. Grimmjow had the chance to meet many famous movie stars, but that didn’t impress him much when it also happened with other people who worked there. One of the make-up artist even burst into tears just because he had met his childhood hero. What did interest Grimmjow was that his job helped him put away enough money to live and still have some emergency savings in times of need.

“We finally start the new sequence, huh?”

Nnoitra was his colleague. He sat next to him and stole his cup of coffee. Grimmjow grabbed it back out of his hands.

“Go get your own.” Grimmjow took a sip. “We’ve had two weeks of rehearsal. Two! This shit better be good at the first take.”

“I wouldn’t count much on it. They’re all newbies. They get all excited when they drop out from school.”

“The last one that was pissing his pants from emotion ended up in the hospital.”

“Yup.” Nnoitra chuckled. “But it was glorious. I mean, he fell like…” He mimicked the trajectory of a parabola with his right hand and, as he hit the palm of the left one, he opened the fingers, making the sounds of an explosion with his mouth. Nnoitra cackled.

Grimmjow frowned. “Yeah, and they had to postpone the filming again.”

“Come on! Have a laugh and enjoy some of the funny bits this shitty job provides us!” Nnoitra smacked a hand on his left shoulder. “You could always fail a fall and break your neck.”

“Or survive the fall but trip in a set prop and break my leg.” They started laughing almost at the same time. “Come on, asshole. Last rehearsal before the true thing.”

Grimmjow checked the jersey and tied the helmet. He knew the motorcycle, the path and what he had to do even better than his own body. He checked the set, the props, he met with the people who would have ~~took~~ taken part in the scene, tried on his own and then together with the others. It wasn’t anything difficult, but many of the stuntmen were newbies due to the low budget. His greedy heart didn’t care,  as long as his company gave him the money; his instinct for self-preservation cared, so his focus was as high as if he was about to do a very difficult stunt. He trusted himself. He trusted Nnoitra more or less. He didn’t trust the other ones. That meant he had to be more careful of his surroundings than ever.

And he was damn right. The wheel of a motorcycle was one centimetre from mowing his head away, and only his reflexes saved him from a trip to the mortuary.

“I’ve had enough of this shit.” Grimmjow threw the helmet on the ground, ignoring the director who asked them to repeat the scene. “We tried for days and can’t get a thing straight!” Nnoitra opened his mouth, a joke ready, but Grimmjow ignored him. “I’m out.”

“You can’t drop the job. We have a contract.” Nnoitra reminded him.

“I can’t. But it’s my right to go into Tousen’s office and complain! It’s his damn job to hire competent people! They–” Grimmjow pointed his index at the three newbies around the director; the one with the red jersey was the idiot who almost made him the Japanese replica of the headless knight. “–are anything but competent!”

He didn’t even take off the heavy jacket that was making him sweat like crazy. Countless head turned to look at the good-looking biker who was shooting lightning from his eyes. Grimmjow marched to the office of Kaname Tousen, the supervisor of personnel. He ignored the squeaks of someone from the set, who didn’t have time to stand up and try to become an obstacle in his path. He didn’t knock and just opened the door.

Grimmjow felt cold. A bucket of imaginary cold water poured over his head, sending shivers down his spine. He was confused, and his mind would later connect the various pieces, giving a clearer view of the reason behind the sudden disgust which clenched his stomach. The regret of not knocking would omit come later as well.

Kaname was sitting in the chair. Sitting On the desk was ~~sitting~~ a young boy  Grimmjow had never seen before. While opening the door, Grimmjow caught a sudden movement coming from there, too sudden for him to fully understand what he had just missed. The boy’s jacket was next to him, but Grimmjow didn’t mind it in that moment.

“Grimmjow, you should have learnt by now that you can enter only after I give my permission.”

Kaname’s voice was cold. The annoyance it triggered inside Grimmjow erased any room for anything ~~which~~ that wasn’t the intolerance he felt towards the man since their first meeting. The hate was mutual.

“And you should have learnt not to put incompetents in difficult stunts! The work isn’t proceeding!”

“Has the director said anything?”

“No.” Grimmjow hadn’t any patience left. “But–”

“Then it is settled, unless someone competent comes to rightfully complain.”

Blood boiled inside Grimmjow’s head and ~~the~~ only a thin thread, his job, was preventing him from not advancing from the doorstep and breaking  Tousen’s nose. He liked it and cared to keep it. He also felt unease under the scared look the boy was giving him; that was the main agent which soothed his steaming spirit enough to avoid doing something mindless and stupid.

“Why the fuck is a child here?” Of course, his presence wasn’t enough to cool his language. Tousen didn’t fail to make him notice.

“You shouldn’t use such rough language in front of a child. Even if that is sign of your poor state of mind.” Tousen was doing everything he could to attract punches on his face. “One of the employees had problems with the baby sitter and brought him here. I’m taking care of him, the office they provided me on the set is big and he can play as he wants without any danger. Now–” He talked over Grimmjow, who failed in taking the lead of the conversation. “–go back and film that scene. If you don’t, I’ll hold you responsible for any delay in the filming.”

Grimmjow hesitated, he still had his hand on the door. For a second, Kaname believed he was about to jump at his throat, and Grimmjow believed it as well. However, with a huge effort, he closed the door and came back to where he left Nnoitra.

“Hey, did he fire you?”

“No. Why?”

“You’re pale as fuck. Are you sick?”

“No. I’m sickened.”

“Yes, I don’t like Tousen either.” Nnoitra swung the right hand in front of his face. “I hope you calmed down, this seems it’ll take a fucking while.”

Grimmjow’s anger calmed. But something else darker took its place. However, he didn’t tell anything to Nnoitra. He decided to empty his mind and concentrate solely on his job.

He thought about what happened again that evening at home.

After dinner, Grimmjow sprawled out on the couch, watching with scarce interest a movie he had already seen. He was about to fall asleep when he felt something tickling his feet. Pantera crawled under the light blanket and climbed on his body, making him feel her tiny claws all over his legs, stomach and chest. Her little head appeared from the hem of the blanket and she looked at Grimmjow, so close that her nose brushed against his chin.

“Hey, I can I not even have some rest without you around?”

She remained with her whole body under the cover, the head laying on Grimmjow’s chest. Closing and opening her eyes slowly, she lazily looked at the intense light coming from the television.

“Alright…” Grimmjow gave up, just as he gave up at the idea of sending her somewhere the week after Neliel brought her to him. He gently stroked behind her head, and the small ears flickered twice. “But only tonight.”

That was a lie he kept repeating to himself. He said it when she slept on the bed, when she climbed on his shoulders while he cooked and when she loomed on the bathtub; always in precarious balance between a safe dry fall and a jump in the wet heat. Grimmjow didn’t complain anymore. The small weight was warm and comfortable, her fur was soft.

He was relaxed. Gently caressing a cat while watching a movie and hearing the thin summer rain ticking on the windows. However, he felt a flaw in that perfect union of elements made to drive people in a cozy idleness. He didn’t know why, but he thought of Tousen. The irritation increased his heartbeat, his calm state of mind wiped away in the brush of a memory.

He wasn’t sure about what he’d seen. The more he tried to recall it, the more he felt unsure of his own mind. He heard a rustle, he caught the gesture of Tousen jolting away from the desk. It was everything and nothing he could base his judgment on. His guts were telling him that his judgment wasn’t wrong, but he hated Tousen and he was surely biased.

The movie which was boring up to few minutes prior, turned into a nice distraction to pour all his attention on. He fell asleep before the ending, but his sleep became agitated. The alarm clock woke him up. Grimmjow knew he dreamt of something but had no memory of it; the only remnant was the sweat sticking the locks on his forehead.

He looked outside: the thin rain turned into a downpour. Pantera was still on his chest, her blue eyes wide open and aiming at him.

Nnoitra was in the last rows during the stunt, closer to the catering table than most of the workers who were standing behind the camera to watch the action first-hand. At the center of everyone’s attention was Grimmjow, his face hidden by the helmet, his identity erased by the actor he was representing. It was a normal routine for Grimmjow, but as always it was, dangerous. The adrenaline waved through everyone, spiraling to the highest peak without ever reaching it. After only a few seconds, the anticipation would disappear as soon as Grimmjow burst out of the whirl of flames unscathed. 

Nothing to worry about. Even if Nnoitra, with a canapé and a cup of coke in hand, wondered what Grimmjow was insinuating about what he saw in Tousen’s office. He would have asked as soon as the idiot got off the motorcycle.

Grimmjow got off the motorcycle, but he was surrounded by people spraying foam around him. Something went wrong as he was flying in the air. The motorcycle collapsed, Grimmjow jumped to the ground one, two, three times before skidding, a trace of fire so close to enveloping his body. His body was twisted in an unnatural way, yet he wasn’t moving.

Nnoitra couldn’t erase the image from his mind. He stared at the white wall in front of him, interrupted only by nurses and doctors passing by. Shawlong, Grimmjow’s old friend, arrived half an hour after Nnoitra contacted him; he’d sat down next to him without saying a word. There wasn’t much more to say.

A chain of different sensation arose within Nnoitra. Fear, anger, sadness, disbelief, anxiety all devoured him from inside; of such great emotional strength that he couldn’t contain it. He started pacing back and forth. Shawlong was reading, and Nnoitra didn’t know how he could stay so calm.

When Neliel arrived, Nnoitra didn’t care if she was pale. He snarled at her.

“Don’t start saying your usual bullshit, okay?!”

She didn’t know what she did to deserve that welcome. Neliel was able to prevent the irritation from devouring her agitated state of mind though and only glared at him. Like Shawlong did, she too sat down in silence.

Nnoitra couldn’t stay still.

“You two don’t even seem worried.” He accused them.

“Everyone reacts in different ways. Either like adults or like children.” Neliel’s words stung him. “What happened?”

Nnoitra raised both arms. “The stunt failed, it happens!” But Grimmjow was too good, the stunt was a normal routine and he was sure Grimmjow checked the motorcycle himself. Nnoitra massaged his forehead. “Okay. There was a problem with the motorcycle. Probably.”

Neliel’s eyes darted aside. “Wasn’t maybe Grimmjow–”

“Neliel, fuck you!” Nnoitra assaulted her with words. “Do you think Grimmjow is an idiot? I’m the one who forgets to tie his helmet. Grimmjow would rather ask me to double check rather than not being sure he could make it!”

He silenced her, and pride roared into his chest. Yet, he felt bad. A pounding fear was overwhelming his head, a thought ~~that~~ was trying to dig his way out of his brain. When he raised his head,  Nnoitra noticed Shawlong was looking at him as well.

“I think there was something wrong with the motorcycle.”

Few days later, they communicated that the motorcycle was okay and what happened on the set was caused by a human error. Grimmjow’s error. Nnoitra didn’t believe them. It was all bullshit.

Nobody tried to console him or minimize the problem. Grimmjow was grateful, even if he didn’t show it. The medicines flowing inside him were compromising his capability to act accordingly with whomever came to vist. He settled for interacting only if necessary and keeping on a constant frown to avoid any breakdowns. He already felt shameful after he yelled and screamed in front of the doctor when he realized he couldn’t move his left arm anymore. Not that he felt sorry for the guy, he felt bad because he lost control and let his anger lead him. He would have gained mobility after rehabilitation; but he would have never been able to do his job again. His brain and mood were both a mess, too weak to bear that situation without crumbling.

“Hey.” Nnoitra threw a bar of chocolate on the bed. “Food here is shit, isn’t it?”

“I can go and buy this at the vending machines, assholes. You could have sneaked in some beer.”

“Then I’ll take it back.”

“Hey, I’m sick. Go get your own chocolate on your feet.”

“You messed up your arm, not your legs!”

As they argued, Shawlong took the chocolate for himself. “I see you’re on your way to healing.” He looked relieved.

“I’d be on my way to healing if only I could move my arm.” Grimmjow sounded more bitter than he intended to. “Nel, you didn’t lose my keys, did you?” He changed subject.

“I checked on her.” Nnoitra pointed out. “Your fucking cat scratched me.” He showed his right hand, where many red scratches stood bright on the pale skin. Grimmjow felt proud.

Neliel frowned. “And she ignored me the whole time, even if I was the one who saved her. You ruined her.”

Grimmjow smirked. “She has good taste in people.”

“Well, I doubt it, since she’s your cat.” Nnoitra wrinkled his nose. “You probably infected her with your asshole genes or whatever.”

The conversation ended there. Nobody seemed to have anything more to add about Grimmjow’s cat or anything else to say. A void of silence surrounded them, so deep and heavy that filling it seemed too ~~much of a~~ difficult of a task to be carried on. Neliel glanced at Shawlong, looking for his help. However, the one who broke the seal and started talking was Nnoitra.

“I quit the job.”

Grimmjow was surprised, but not as much as everyone expected.

“Why?”

“Grimmjow, don’t fuck with me. It’s not that difficult to imagine, huh?”

Grimmjow glanced at Neliel and Shawlong before looking back at Nnoitra. “You told them about my doubts.”

Shawlong cleared his voice. “They had doubts before you had the incident. Everyone here believes they tampered with the motorcycle, but, of course, the report states the contrary.”

Grimmjow didn’t look at them. “Yes… I’ve been told.” The last thing he wanted, was thinking about all the mess he ended up into. His mind wasn’t in the best state to analyze the situation. But Neliel had the opposite view.

“It’s the company’s word against yours.” She was serious.

“I’m not stupid. I know I can’t do much about it. Those bastards tried to get rid of me.” Grimmjow looked at Nnoitra and shook his head. “They have no reason to be after you, why the hell did you resign?” He couldn’t bear the focus on himself, so he shifted it on his friend.

Nnoitra scratched his cheek. “The atmosphere became… heavy.”

“I can’t read minds. I hurt my arm, not my head.”

Shawlong threw the chocolate bar back on his bed. “It looks like trying to get rid of you wasn’t enough. Even before they knew if you survived or not, this rumour started spreading.”

Grimmjow straightened his back. “What rumour?” Neliel looked at the drip-feed into his right arm, worried that a sudden movement would have hurt him.

Nnoitra made a disgusted grimace. “Well, they started saying _you_ are a child molester.”

Nnoitra resigned. Grimmjow was fired.

When Grimmjow’s grandparents died, they left him quite the sum of money. He’d never touched it and always used the money he gained to get what he wanted, from his holidays during university to his apartment. Never once did he want to rely on that source he labelled as a reserve for emergency. But daily expenses, the apartment, the cat, the rehabilitation therapy for his left arm soon sucked from his bank account most of the money he gained through hard work. Pride set aside, Grimmjow knew he would soon have to be forced to draw money from the emergency reserve.

The first month of rehabilitation absorbed him to the point he didn’t think even once about finding a new job. His mind was focused on getting better as soon as possible. However, his arm was healing slower than the doctor expected, and Grimmjow had troubles with the plate in his shoulder; instead of lowering the dose of painkiller, he took more to sleep at least a handful of hours per night. After the control check, the doctor noticed they needed to change the plate, because the dimension of that one was slightly wrong, thus giving him endless waves of pain. So, after less than two months, Grimmjow was again under the knife.

After the second operation, Grimmjow started thinking seriously about what he should do to keep living. With what his grandparents left him, he would survive barely a year, even less if the medical expenses kept such a quick pace. Alone in his room, he had plenty of time to reflect on his condition. At least, this time he felt less like shit, and could tell the difference in the way the new doctor, Unohana Retsu, handled his problem. The shoulder didn’t tingle as much as it did before, and the dosage of painkillers was low: he had no distractions left which could blur his mind and distract him from his endless spiral of self-destructive thoughts.

If at first Grimmjow had doubts about what he almost witnessed in Tousen’s office, now he was sure that his impression was on point. But that was it. A useless impression that couldn’t be used against Tousen. Moreover, everyone knew that their relationship was tense, so Grimmjow’s credibility wasn’t on the edge, it had already fallen into the void. The only ones who knew about what he saw were his friends, and all of them agreed that unfortunately, about that matter there was nothing any of them could do without major retaliations.

What cleared Grimmjow of any doubt that he could have mistaken what he saw, was the domino effect of events which fell on him, ruining his life at the age of 24. Few days after he opened that door, the incident happened. Grimmjow checked the motorcycle twice, as he was used to do, and everything was fine; during the little time he wasn’t around it, someone tampered with the front fork. He couldn’t erase from his eyes the view of the sky falling over him, of the ground getting close too fast and the darkness he fell into before he could feel any pain.

Then, even before he woke up, the rumour spread like fire. There wasn’t any proof against him, because he’d never done anything like what he was accused of. But the day he went to Aizen’s office, the CEO of the company, Grimmjow felt the eyes on him, heard the whispers following his passage. Loly, whose main goal in life was getting into Aizen’s pants, smirked in satisfaction. Grimmjow guessed she could be the one who started it all, under the order of her beloved chief. Maybe she would have thought twice on it, if Grimmjow didn’t reject her attempt of riding his dick a few months prior.

Aizen didn’t exactly fired him, but he wasn’t needed anymore. Grimmjow was a direct person, and, as such, the streams of useless words used to embellish the discourse and confuse the participant were wasted on him. Not that Aizen didn’t display his talent in fooling people with his tongue. He kept smiling at him with sympathy, repeating how he felt bad for his condition and how he was willing to help him with an eventual letter of recommendation – but it was safest having a recommendation from the devil itself rather than from Aizen. It was the longest time Grimmjow had ever spent in that office, and the last time he entered that building.

Laid on the hospital bed for the second time, Grimmjow believed that the bad result of the first operation was also part of the machination of the company to get rid of him and his credibility. The wall Aizen erected around Tousen to protect him from all accusations was too high to climb, too strong to demolish. From the eyes of external people, Grimmjow was a stuntman who ruined his career on his own, a rumoured child molester, and the credibility of whatever charges he could have moved against the company was ruined from the start.

The third month, his arm seemed to be getting better. He still had no job yet.

The fourth month, there were no significant improvements. He managed to get a job interview to work as an advisor on set and help new stuntmen. However, the day prior to the interview, he was called and told everything was cancelled. With some research, he realized that the company had connections with Aizen’s. Grimmjow became more careful in his job hunt, but it looked like there wasn’t a place safe from Aizen’s tentacles.

The fifth month, Grimmjow started skipping rehabilitation and stopped looking for a new job. He went out from his apartment only to reach the supermarket near home when his fridge and pantry became a desert of food.

At the beginning of the sixth month, he barely replied to the messages from his friends and started pretending he wasn’t home even if they knocked on the door until their hands hurt. His sorrow was deeper than their stubbornness.

That morning, the sun shone so bright and the sky was so blue, it didn’t seem like it was the beginning of winter.

Grimmjow looked into the mirror at a reflection of the ghost of the person he was. He lost several kilos, his cheeks were shadows carved into the pale flesh, the purple circles were devouring his eyes, the beard was messy and irregular, his hair got long and dirty. He didn’t want to take a shower. Actually, he didn’t need it. Pantera was sitting in the sink. Since some weeks, she had taken the habit of sitting in the sink whenever Grimmjow entered the toilet. Despite it was a must of many cats, Pantera had never shown the flaw of throwing every object on the ground. Yet, Grimmjow started finding his razor and knives on the floor. That morning as well, Pantera climbed into the sink and pushed the razor over the edge. Grimmjow didn’t mind it, he didn’t even notice it; as he dragged himself out of there, his right foot bumped into the razor, sending it to the other side of the bathroom.

It was cold. Even if the rays of sun filtering through the window were giving a pleasant warmth all over his skin, the moment Grimmjow opened the door to the balcony, the cold embraced him, from his head to the tip of his naked feet. He was ~~only~~ wearing only his pyjama bottoms, nothing else defending him from the winter weather. Over the edge of the balustrade there was a road, nine floors down. The vertiginous view vortexed his attention, sucking his whole body in like a magnet. The poor diet debilitated his body, yet  Grimmjow managed to climb to one knee on the balustrade, while the other foot was touching the floor, the tips slightly brushing on the tiles.

Half of his body was already leaning towards the ground when he felt a warm cling on his leg. Soft, a bit painful. The little claws brushed against the cloth, but Grimmjow felt them on his skin. Pantera was stroking her head against him. Such a light touch, yet so powerful; a strong hand which clawed and dragged him outside of a dark cold basin of water. The road under him suddenly turned so real, so vivid. The view was a lightening strike which entered him and awakened his whole body: he was frightened.

Grimmjow wobbled backwards, he fell on the balcony. His left shoulder hurt, he curled in on himself and screamed. The outside was cold; he lived at the ninth floor. Grimmjow felt he had just awakened from a nightmare he had no control over, and all the fear hadn’t abandoned him. He slithered inside the comfortable warmth of his house and hid behind the couch. His shoulders trembled for the loud sobs and moans escaping from his throat. Pantera walked right into his arms, her whole body pressed against his chest, the head right under his chin; she stayed close to him until Grimmjow had no more tears left, she didn’t leave as the expression of his grief stopped flowing outside but remained inside him. Grimmjow clung to her, trapped her in a desperate hug, and she didn’t complain. Pantera gently leaned her head against his cheek.

It was the pain in his shoulder which forced Grimmjow to stand up. The living room had absorbed all the cold from outside; he closed the door.

He needed a painkiller. But instead of going for the bathroom, where he stored all the medicines, he grabbed his mobile from the table. Neliel and Nnoitra sent him some messages, both tried to call him. Shawlong did as well.

The phone rang for a long moment. Grimmjow had never noticed how much it took for a call to be started and for someone to answer. Right when he was about to give up, he heard the noise of the opening call.

“Grimmjow?”

Shawlong sounded worried. Grimmjow opened his mouth but didn’t manage to say anything; tears formed again into his eyes, his throat hurt, clung in a painful clamp.

“Grimmjow? What happened?”

“Shawlong.” He exhaled. “I…” His voice trembled. “…need help.” The forced calm exploded in a violent kick against a chair: it hit the wall and crashed on the floor. Grimmjow looked at the wooden corpse lie laying on its side.

“I’m on my way.” Grimmjow could picture Shawlong nodding.

Half an hour later, Shawlong knocked on the door. He was brought food and his calming presence. However, before saying anything, he enclosed Grimmjow’s shoulders in a gentle hug.

Neliel tilted her head on the left, then on the right. Grimmjow snorted.

“I don’t care what you think about it. I won’t change it.”

“No, I like it.”

Grimmjow raised from the ground a heavy-looking bag with his left arm. Nel jolted.

“Hey, be careful.”

“I’m fine.”

Grimmjow surprised her throwing the bag. Instead of avoiding it, she caught it with both arms: it was light. “See?”

He was still doing the exercises for rehabilitation, but now he perfectly moved his arm. Those who didn’t know about the incident would have never guessed he had a metallic plate inside his shoulder and was two centimetres from losing the whole arm.

Neliel put the bag down. “Let me take a tour inside.”

“No, it’s a mess.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m busy today, Nel.”

Neliel would have insisted, if it wasn’t for the hand scratching behind his neck and the eyes wandering aside. She guessed what he had to do but didn’t keep it discreet.

“How is it going with the psychoterapist?”

“Professional secrecy.” He grumbled at her.

She smirked. “Has Nnoitra seen it?”

“Not yet. Busy with his job.”

Nnoitra managed to get into another company. Same old job, not same old salary, but a better environment.

“Do you need a ride?” Neliel extended her helmet to him. She wondered if the shrug of his eyes was hesitation. “I have another one under the seat.”

Grimmjow took it. “Don’t make me be late.”

“Don’t worry.” Neliel glanced at the sign gently swinging under the blow of the wind. “By the why, you didn’t tell me why that name.”

Grimmjow shrugged. “The cat.”

“The cat?”

“I’ve had her for six months when I decided to use my grandparents’ inheritance and open this shit.” He paused. “I’m also thinking about moving in a new apartment.”

“So, you like her.”

“No.” Grimmjow snorted. “But the asshole won’t leave. I had no other ideas and it sounds good after all.” He read the sign. “ _Sexta_.”

***

The doorbell startled Grimmjow. His sudden jolt disrupted the little black pile of kittens asleep against his leg. The male remained buried under the sisters, who rolled on him, looking around in confusion. The three of them looked at their mother following in the steps of Grimmjow.

“What the fuck? Did your finger get stuck on the doorbell?” Grimmjow attacked as he opened the door. Nel pushed in front of his face a plastic bag filled with food ready to be eaten. “Why the hell are you here?”

“I brought food. Can’t you see?”

Grimmjow closed the door before the curious kittens could realize they had a chance of dashing outside to explore new spaces. Neliel put the bag on the table and rustled inside. “I also brought some sweets, chips… I found this coke with coffee in a vending machine and wanted to try it.” She showed him the bottle.

“You don’t want to sleep until New Year’s Eve? Summer has just started.”

“There’s a movie I want to watch.”

“I was watching a documentary.”

“I’ll interrupt your culturally satisfying evening then.”

Few minutes later, they were sitting on the couch eating junk food and avoiding the attempts of the kittens to munch on whatever they were about to put into their mouths.

“You should be doing this with Tier.” Grimmjow pointed out.

“Why?”

“She’s your girlfriend.”

“She doesn’t like this movie, and I really wanted to watch it.”

“And you disturbed me for this?”

Nel glanced at him. “As if you had anything better to do.” She shifted aside and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Now, shut up and let me see the movie.”

Grimmjow picked a half-cold French fry, bent on itself forming a sad curve. “By the way, the killer is the boyfriend.”

“Grimmjow!”

Nel’s shriek was so loud that the kittens leaped in the air and ended up rolling on the floor. From the bathroom, hidden into the sink, Pantera ignored all of them.

At the same time, in an office at the centre of Karakura, the lawyer Coyote Starrk had just finished another long exhausting day of work. He felt relieved that one of the most energy draining cases that had ever passed on his desk was about to reach its conclusion; on the other hand, he felt like shit because all the efforts made during the past three years lead to a disastrous loss.

His client, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, sued Hogyoku enterprises because they covered up the real reason of the incident that ruined his left shoulder for good and for defamation. Starrk even now kept wondering what brought him to accept the job instead of declining it, since they had little chances of winning against Aizen Sosuke from the beginning: few and weak proofs, everything seemed against Grimmjow. At least, Starrk was trying to make sure Grimmjow could escape the slur of paying the other party for being accused of defamation himself: making him fall on his feet and not on his back was the least he should do.

A headache was pounding the inside of his head. If Starrk hadn’t stopped for a few minutes to swallow a painkiller and taste some fresh water, he probably would have missed the call and spent a more peaceful night. But, considering he had to face mister Jaegerjaques and admit that the last feeble hope they had to scratch the impregnable defence failed, how it could have been peaceful? Starrk postponed the confession, as he himself tried to make their last attempt work at its best. However, Aizen’s lawyer mowed him over like fresh grass, and Starrk could only admit his defeat.

The telephone rang right when he had his hand on the handle of the door. Starrk sighed, closed his eyes for few seconds, and walked back.

“Starrk. Who’s calling?” Each word dragged out of his throat.

“Starrk.” Starrk didn’t recognize the voice immediately, so he stayed silent. “It’s me, Findorr! How could you not recognize me? I bet you were sleeping somewhere as you always do. How disgraceful! And–”

It wasn’t the tone of voice, but the endless blabber which made Starrk identify Findorr Calius. “What do you want?” He tried to talk over him but Findorr didn’t stop. “Okay, I’ll hang up.”

“No, wait!” Finally, Findorr stopped, for the wellbeing of Starrk’s head. “I have something to tell you.”

Starrk sighed. “Be quick.”

“Hey, it’s a favour I’m doing here for you, so–”

“This time I’ll hang up for sure.”

“Okay, okay, okay! Such an old man, aren’t you?” Starrk heard some paper rustling. “You are leading the case of a certain Grimmjow Jaegerjaques against the Hogyoku enterprise. I don’t know if this may be related, but this is a bomb waiting to explode. And let me tell you–”

“Findorr.”

“Okay, okay.” A second of silence, too much for someone like Findorr, who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Someone wants to move a charge of pedophilia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
> 
>  
> 
> \- The task Grimmjow entrusted Ichigo with is helping him catch the cats so he can bring them to the vet. They fail miserably. When Ichigo goes home, Grimmjow remains alone and thinks about the past.
> 
> \- It was Nel who found Pantera in the streets, but her housemate at that time and friend, Pesche, was allergic, so she brought her to Grimmjow.
> 
> \- Grimmjow worked for the Hogyoku enterprise as a stuntman. However, one day, he almost caught Kaname Tousen, the head of personnel, molesting a child. Despite Grimmjow isn't sure of what he saw (because as he opened the office's door, he only caught Kaname getting a bit further from the child), his future is doomed: they tamper with the motorbike and Grimmjow injures his left shoulder during a stunt.
> 
> \- Aizen, the head of the company, manages to put the blame of the incident on Grimmjow and make sure a nasty rumor about him spreads like fire: he is a child molester.
> 
> \- Grimmjow's career as a stuntman is over. He cannot even work in other companies as a consultant, as Aizen tainted his name forever. It's difficult suing the company, as all the odds seem to be against him. The recovery isn't going well. Grimmjow decides to commit suicide by throwing himself from the balcony of his apartment. But when Pantera rubs herself against his leg, Grimmjow comes back to his senses and calls Shawlong for help.
> 
> \- Since his career is over, but he needs money to keep living (even if he has some money left from his grandparents), Grimmjow decides to open a pub and call it Sexta. He's also receiving help from a psychoterapist and has the intention of moving to another apartment (which will be of course the one he is in now).
> 
> \- The flashback ends. Nel is back to Grimmjow's apartment and brought with her some food to spend the evening with him watching a movie.
> 
> \- At the same time Coyote Starrk, Grimmjow's lawyer in the trial against the company, reflects on how they're at the end of the line and have basically lost when he receives a call: "Someone wants to move a charge of pedophilia."
> 
>  
> 
> Trivia:  
> \- Grimmjow said he called the pub Sexta because Pantera entered into his life six months before he started the activity. But he called it like that because from where his family comes (Spanish-speaking region) it is believed cats have seven lives, and Grimmjow thinks Pantera gave him one of his to prevent him from committing suicide. So now Pantera has six lives. Sexta. I read a similar episode on the internet and it inspired me.
> 
> \- At first, Nel had to be Grimmjow's colleague, that's why Neliel owns a motorbike. I decided her to be a lawyer specialized in sexual abuses some time before I came up with the darker side of Grimmjow's past.
> 
> \- In fact, at first, the story behind Grimmjow's injury was simpler: due to a mistake from the company he hurt himself, he sued the company and, since he couldn't be a stuntman anymore, he started the activity.
> 
> \- I don't like GrimmNel, but I ended up making them have an open relationship because, after all, it suited them in this AU.

**Author's Note:**

> Who the hell gave Grimmjow a license? Soon on this fan fiction, or maybe not.


End file.
